


If Your Heart's Still Open

by justcurious



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Middle School, Coming of Age, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Health Issues not otherwise specified, Minho and Teresa are nosy as hell, Newt is a confused puppy who just wants to be pet AKA The Sad Gay, POV Thomas, Past Drug Use, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Semi-Graphic Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, Thomas is absolutely done with everything, more tags to be added as the fic is updated!!!, multiple vague reference to vague incident bc author likes to be mysterious about shit for no reason, side pairing: Thomas/Brenda but it doesn't last very long oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justcurious/pseuds/justcurious
Summary: “Newt?” Thomas breathes. Why is he here?There’s a long pause where neither of them say a thing. Finally, Newt tilts his head and asks, “Are you alright?”“I—uh… I’m seriously going to be late. Gotta go,” says Thomas because 1) he is actually running late, 2) he’ll always be an awkward idiot around Newt, and 3) he never wants to see this guy again.After five years of thinking that Newt is no longer a part of his life, Thomas bumps into him outside his college. He wants to hope that he’ll never see him after that, but then again, he’s never been able to stay away from Newt for very long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was not supposed to end up being a multi-chaptered fic. I just got a teeny tiny plot bunny from seeing Thomas Brodie-Sangster smoking in the ‘30 Minutes Break’ music video that was meant to be 5k words max but here we are, folks.
> 
> PLEASE be aware of the tags. I will be updating them as we go along. Future chapters will have additional warnings so just in case you don't check the tags as I update, I will be sure to mention them at the beginning of the chapter.
> 
> You should also know that I am not American. I live in the UK (so I love making fun of the differences in speech and stuff). However, I am not at all familiar with the US education system. (Plus, I spent a large chuck of my childhood in Asia so I barely understand the UK system anyway.) I’d be happy to correct any mistakes I’ve made about culture, education, turns of phrase etc.
> 
> The title is from Arctic Monkey’s “Do I Wanna Know?” which is probably the closest to a theme song that this fic is gonna get. I guess if you’re looking for some jams to listen to while reading this fic, I gotchu. Below is a mini-playlist, because I’m crazy and these songs just fit. (All links lead to YouTube.)  
> [Arctic Monkeys – Do I Wanna Know?](http://bit.ly/J601xJ)  
> [Gotye ft. Kimbra – Somebody That I Used to Know](http://bit.ly/1cRgBNd)  
> [The Neighborhood – Sweater Weather](http://bit.ly/1bta1Lv)  
> [Lana Del Rey – Old Money](http://bit.ly/1zUX8dd)
> 
> Other than that (and this ridiculously long author’s note), please enjoy!!

**2007**

Teresa sticks her tongue out at Thomas, waving his pencil above her head.

“Teresa, give it baaack,” Thomas whines.

Miss Paige walks into the class with a small boy at her heels. “Class, settle down now. Teresa please give Thomas his pencil and Gally, please face forwards. Stop bothering Aris.”

Thomas smiles smugly at Teresa who rolls her eyes in return.

“We have a new student who is going to join us. I shouldn’t have to tell you this but I am expecting you to treat him well,” says the teacher. Thomas thinks that the boy looks too young to be in the seventh grade. And why is he starting school here  _in December_? Miss Paige turns to the boy (short blond hair, hands in pockets, skinny). “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

The boy shrugs. “Uh… Hi. My name is Newt. Like the animal,” he says with an odd accent. British?

“Anything else?” Miss Paige asks, clearly expecting him to say more. “Anything about yourself? Where you’re from? Any fun facts?”

“No.”

Miss Paige pauses. “Alright then,” she says and faces the class. “I’m going to need a volunteer to show him around.”

Everyone bows their heads and stares at their desks.

“If no one volunteers, I’m going to have to pick someone,” she says pointedly.

Thomas closes his eyes. He knows where this is going. Maybe Teresa is right; maybe he should be less of a ‘goody two shoes’ so teachers don’t assume he is happy to do anything they ask.

“Alright then,” she says again. “Hmm, Thomas.”

He sighs inwardly and looks up.

“Can you make sure Newt gets to all his classes on time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiles at him. “Teresa, could you move to the back. Newt, take a seat next to Thomas.”

It is Teresa’s turn to smirk and Thomas cannot help but pout.

“Hello,” the boy—Newt—says as he plops down next to Thomas with a nervous grin.

Thomas smiles back reassuringly and hopes the day would go by fast. “Hi.”

 

* * *

 

**2017**

College is supposed to be fun. Thomas does _not_ think this is fun. He’s always up late but not for parties. No. Because he has to study. _And_ he had to quit the college athletics team this semester because he has no fucking time to do anything nice anymore.

So of course, on this random February morning, Thomas is almost late for class again. He has his backpack in his hand while he’s running and trying to stuff his books inside. And that is when he bumps into Newt. Literally.

“Hey, arsehole, you nearly broke my lens,” Newt says from where he’s crouching on the ground, picking up a camera.

“Newt?” Thomas breathes.

Newt looks up. He’s wearing a beanie, strands of hair falling out, long enough to brush against his furrowed eyebrows. He looks older, which is to be expected really, but Thomas can’t help but feel like he’s looking at a stranger and an old friend at the same time. Well, that’s pretty accurate, anyway. “Tommy?” Newt stands, gaping.

_Oh god, it really is him_ , he thinks, because this is all a shock. Why is he here?

The camera is being hung around Newt’s neck and he looks as if he is both frowning and smiling. There’s a long pause where neither of them say a thing. Finally, Newt tilts his head and asks, “Are you alright?”

“I—uh… I’m seriously going to be late. Gotta go,” says Thomas because 1) he is actually running late, 2) he’ll always be an awkward idiot around Newt, and 3) he never wants to see this guy again.

Newt blinks, twice and almost deliberate, and replies, “Yeah, um, sure.” He pulls out his wallet to hand Thomas a small square piece of paper. “Here, we should catch up?”

It’s a business card with Newt’s number on it. So, he’s a freelance photographer now. That’s good.

It still doesn’t make Thomas want to call him.

Newt clears his throat awkwardly and Thomas realizes he has just been staring at the card in Newt’s outstretched hand.

And he’s going to be tremendously, fashionably late for his lecture.

“Yeah, sure.” He takes it out of courtesy, says “See ya around” with a smile, and runs to class.

He throws the card in the trash can outside the lecture hall before he goes in.

Then, after his class, he rummages through coffee cups and apple cores to fish it out again.

*

Thomas keeps the card in his wallet for a month, right at the back where the expired coupons and old receipts stay because he is too lazy to throw them away. He almost forgets about it until his roommate gets snoopy.

“You have no cash in here, man!” Minho shouts from Thomas’s room.

Thomas gets up from the sofa and makes his way to the room. “I was sure there’s something there.”

“Uh, everything except cash. Your wallet is full of shit. What even is this?” Minho asks, holding up a tiny, very crumpled receipt. “‘5% off  your next gas fill’… expired a year and a half ago.”

Thomas rummages through his bedside table in search for spare cash. The pizza guy clears his throat pointedly from the door of their apartment. “Shut up, Minho. At least my _room_ is clean. Yours smells like cheeseburgers and feet.”

He finds some bills then jogs to the door.

“Keep the change,” he says and takes the box.

The pizza man (smells faintly of tobacco, hat skewed) raises an eyebrow, probably because there isn't going to be much (any) change, and walks away without a word.

“Ew, do you keep business cards from your hook-ups in the back of your wallet so I can’t see them?” Minho calls from the bedroom. “And why are there stains on it? I seriously do not want to know what caused these stains, dude.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Unless, you are going on a photo-shoot for some bizarre reason,” Minho says as he joins Thomas on the couch and grabs a slice of pizza.

That’s when Thomas realizes what he is taking about. He tries to play it cool because when Minho gets suspicious, he could be worse than Thomas with all the questions he asks. “Oh. It’s from a friend from high school.”

Minho stops chewing. _Shit_. “Why isn’t his number on your phone?”

“I just bumped into him recently and I keep forgetting to put the number in.” Thomas gives himself a mental high-five.

Minho’s eyebrows draw closer together but all he says is, “Okay,” and he hands the card to Thomas. He keeps his eyes on Thomas, and so Thomas feels obliged to take his phone out and save the number, then gets up to throw the card away for good.

*

Thomas thinks that’s the end of it. He no longer has the stupid card but now, but he can’t bring himself to delete the number from his phone. Thankfully, he manages to refrain from sending Newt a text or god forbid, calling the guy.

Of course, he should never think that anything good will ever happen when Newt is involved because after a few days, he gets a call from Teresa.

“Hey,” he says after he picks up.

“You saw Newt and you never even called me?” Teresa’s voice is louder than normal.

All the color drains from Thomas’s face. “Oh, I’m fine and school’s going smoothly, thanks for asking. How are you doing?”

Teresa sighs. “Don’t even try to get out of this. Tell me what happened.”

“Look, I was running late and I just literally ran into him. Then I left.”

There’s no sound from the other line. Obviously she knows about that evil card. He’s going to strangle Minho in his sleep.

“Yes, he gave me his business card to ‘catch up’,” he makes quotation gestures with his hand even though Teresa can’t see him. “I threw it away.” _And I should have left it in that trash can in the first place_.

She sighs again. “Minho says you have his number in your phone.”

“I deleted it,” he lies. “I don’t want to see him, Teresa, let alone catch up.”

“That’s not what you said in junior year.”

“Yeah, well, I grew the hell up. That was a long time ago.” _Why is she making this a big deal? It’s just Newt, for fuck’s sake. Who cares?_ “Besides, I thought I’d never see him again and I was perfectly okay with that.”

“No, you weren’t,” she retorts.

“Yes, I was!” he says, a little too loudly. “Okay maybe not at first, but like I said that was a long time ago.”

Teresa sighs a third time and the sound without the image makes Thomas miss her greatly. “Tom.” The nickname makes him sigh in return. “Don’t you even want to patch things up? Just clear the air and get closure?”

“What do I need closure for?” Thomas rolls his eyes. “No, don’t answer that. I mean I’m fine. I was fine before I saw him again, and I’m fine now. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“You sound like you’re overcompensating.”

Thomas groans. “I was okay until everyone kept bringing it up. First Minho and now you. I just want to forget it and keep living my life, man.” He attempts to change the subject. “How’s work?”

Teresa makes a disgruntled sound and he can just _sense_ that she’s rolling her eyes. “I’m a secretary to a mean old boss who makes a face every single time I suggest something. I’m living the dream, Thomas, what do you think?”

“Wow. I didn’t need to verbally slapped, T. I was just asking.” He then realizes something. “Minho. You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No. But I think he’s already suspicious.”

“Well, there is nothing to be suspicious about anyway.”

“Tom…”

“No. This is it, Teresa. I’m deleting his number when this conversation is over.”

Teresa’s laugh resonates in his ear. “I thought you already deleted his number.”

Thomas bites his cheek. “I’m hanging up now.”

“No! No, wait!”

He gives in. “What?”

“Are you sure?” She sounds way too concerned.

“Yes,” he says.

She sighs once more. “Okay then.”

He deletes the number and then hates himself for it.

 

* * *

 

**2007**

By lunch time, Thomas knows that Newt likes drawing, ice cream, and playing ‘football’. Thomas tries to get rid of him but the poor boy knows no one else in the school. So in exchange, Thomas tells Newt that he likes cool cars and hanging out with his best friend Teresa. He also says he likes math but Newt sternly replies, “That’s stupid. No one likes maths, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear your feedback!! I don't have an update schedule yet but I'm working on this fic with all the free time I get so stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for being so patient with me. I just want this fic to be perfect (and I can be a bit of a perfectionist sometimes) so I really have to amp myself up to upload stuff. Although it's not really important for the plot, the Americanisms are what I keep struggling with here. If I make any glaring mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me!! I really appreciate any feedback.
> 
> And thank you to all the people leaving comments; you guys motivate me to continue this!

**2008**

Thomas regrets ever wanting to ditch Newt. In the few weeks that they have known each other, they’ve become thick as thieves. It's great to have someone tease Teresa with him; Newt always picks his side.

“I should’ve told Miss Paige that I should be Newt’s friend,” Teresa whines. They are walking down the hallway to her locker before they went to class. (The janitor must have missed a spot on the floor. It looks muddy.) “It’s not fair.”

Newt is giggling along with Thomas. “Thomas is right though! You look like Dora.”

That spurs on another fit of laughter from Thomas.

“My mom said that I should get short hair,” she explains, as if it would make a difference. Over the Christmas break, her mother had cut her hair short and given her bangs. Thomas hasn’t seen her since the day after New Year’s, when her family came over for dinner, so it must have happened after that.

“Well, you should have said no,” Thomas manages to say in between bouts of laughter.

“This is your fault,” Teresa says, looking at Newt. “He never wins a fight with me.” She takes a book out of her locker and shakes her head.

Newt frowns, a simple downturn of one side of his mouth. “How is it my fault?”

“You’ve given him the power to stand up to me. It’s awful.” Newt finds that funny for some reason and he giggles some more.

Thomas is still reeling with laughter so he couldn’t add anything to that if he wanted to. Something about Newt gives him confidence. Maybe it is just the presence of an ally or maybe it's the way Newt gazes at him with admiration, like he is some kind of genius, especially when Thomas talks. Thomas always tells him that it's just science but Newt finds it fascinating that Thomas can name the insects in the school’s garden and the reason why they help flowers grow.

Newt is looking at him like that now and Thomas has to smile back.

The bell rings and the three of them walk the rest of the way to homeroom in silence.

 

* * *

 

**2017**

Surprisingly, Minho never mentions Newt again over the next week. Which should have given it away, really, if Thomas is not neck-deep in things to do.

The other shoe drops when Minho comes home while Thomas is on Skype with Teresa in the sitting room. His roommate joins him on the couch because Teresa has her dog on her lap, and Minho is a sucker for dogs.

“Hello cutie,” Minho says and Teresa scoffs. “Oh, and hi Teresa,” he continues with a smile.

She rolls her eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

Minho then turns to Thomas, which should have been the second giveaway, because Minho never takes his eyes off the dog. It’s only until Minho starts talking that Thomas regrets ever making the effort to dig that life-ruining card out of the trash. “So are you meeting up with Newt Isaacs soon?”

Teresa splutters and Thomas has to blink a few times. “Sorry, what?”

“Well, I gathered that you three must have been close, considering how Teresa reacted to what I told her last week,” Minho replies bluntly. “I’m assuming you two have talked about it,” he continues as he points at Thomas then at Teresa.

Thomas turns to glare at Teresa who looks sheepish, so Thomas has to forgive her a little. Teresa Agnes is never sheepish. “It doesn’t really concern you, Minho.”

Minho shrugs. “I know but I guess I just wanted to meet him since you blushed very hard when I just said his name.”

“I did not—” he starts, indignant.

“Yeah, you did,” Minho interrupts.

Thomas closes his eyes and counts to ten slowly, then looks up at Minho. “We had a falling out. I don’t really want to see him. And anyway, I deleted his number.”

“That’s alright,” Minho says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out that goddamn _cursed_ card. “I kept the card.”

“Oh my god, I can’t get rid of that thing can I?” he exclaims. “I don’t want it! When will this nightmare end?”

Minho raises both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just asking, dude.”

Teresa shifts to put her dog on the ground, out of sight from the webcam. “Thomas, maybe calm down?”

“I am calm!” He then realizes how ridiculous he is being so he puts his face in his hands and counts to ten again.

“I’m getting a feeling that there is more to this,” Minho’s voice sounds soft, like he is not sure he wants to know what ‘more’ is.

Teresa tells him sarcastically, “Oh really? What gave it away?”

Minho gives him a pat on the back and says, “I’m going to my room, now,” which is Minho-speak for ‘ _I’ll give you two some space to talk because you obviously are uncomfortable and I’ll be in my room if you need to talk_ ’. Thomas feels really stupid for freaking out after that but when he opens his eyes, he sees his friend walking away.

He turns to Teresa who stays silent. She always lets him speak first in times like this because she knows he needs time to breathe.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he says finally.

The dog is back on her lap somehow, and she strokes its head as she replies. “Maybe with why you went all Hulk with Minho?”

He takes a deep breath. “Newt was in the past,” he starts. “It’s been what? Just over five years now? Over five years of not thinking about him at all.”

“I’d say four,” Teresa says jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “You were pretty emo for a year.”

Glaring at her, he continues like she did not say anything. “And then suddenly, he’s outside my college taking pictures of whatever the fuck he was taking pictures of, giving me his stupid, _stupid_ business card and I just—” he cuts himself off. He just what? He doesn’t even know.

“Felt fifteen again?” And trust Teresa to know him better than he knows himself.

Thomas nods and picks at a hangnail on his thumb. “I tried to throw it away as soon as he gave it to me but I couldn’t do it. I thought now that I had no way of contacting him again, I could go back to how I was.”

“Tom.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you really not want to talk to him?”

He groans loudly. “Why do you keep asking me that? I was fine before I saw him again, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Well, what is the point?”

“He must have wanted to talk; he gave you his number.”

“I can’t do it, Teresa. Talking to him means I won’t stop thinking about him again,” he explains. “I can’t go through that again.”

She gives him a small smile and shrugs. “Okay then. You know I support you no matter what.”

Thomas can’t help but smile back. “Thanks, T.” He hangs his head suddenly.

“What?”

“Now, I need to talk to Minho.”

Teresa laughs and wishes him luck.

*

“Hey,” Thomas says as Minho opens his bedroom door.

His roommate is smiling at him as he nods toward his bed. It’s the only thing in there that they can sit on; the single chair in the room is covered in clothes and lecture notes, and the table is cluttered with books.

“I probably have to apologize for shouting first,” he says.

Minho sits next to him and chuckles. “No need, man. I’m the one who touched a nerve, right? I should apologize.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Yeah, still…”

Thomas takes the opening. “You obviously know that there’s a story behind this.”

Nodding, Minho re-positions himself and lies down. Thomas turns to him. “My guess is ex-boyfriend.”

Thomas laughs a little, but it sounds sad to his own ears. “Not quite.”

“Oh? What does that mean?”

“Not really relevant.” He pauses. “Okay, a bit relevant.”

Minho cocks an eyebrow. “Now, I’m really curious.”

“It’s complicated,” he tries to explain. “The three of us—Newt, Teresa and I—we were friends. We met him in middle school. He’s from England but his dad’s company got some sorta contract here so they had to move.”

Now Minho looks even more interested. “He’s British?” he asks, which makes Thomas laugh.

“Yeah,” and god, talking about him makes him miss high school. Who even misses high school? “Long story short: I was very upset when he moved back to England. We kind of parted on bad terms.”

“And Teresa thinks you should get closure or something,” Minho says, because Minho is very good at reading people. “That’s why she was mad you didn’t tell her?”

“Yes.”

Thomas can tell that Minho wants to know more but instead his roommate says, “Look, you don’t have to tell me all of it if you don’t want to. We can order some Indian food and play Mario Kart.”

It’s that moment that Thomas is grateful for the company he keeps. They know him so well that it’s creepy, but they care about him and that’s what he needs right now.

 

* * *

 

**2008**

“Why is it that everyone here knows each other so well?” Newt asks one day. It is nearly two months since he started at their school, and considering the fact that they didn’t have classes a few weeks ago for Christmas break, he hasn’t been in the school for very long. Thomas is confused as to why he is complaining. “I still can’t match people’s names to their faces, let alone know all their last names.”

“A lot of us went to the same elementary school,” Thomas explains. They are both sitting on the stairs of the school outside during recess. At a table further ahead, Teresa is playing chess with Brenda. They watch as Brenda’s knight moves to eat one of Teresa’s pawns. (Thomas can see that despite this, Teresa has the advantage. She could win in five—maybe, six or seven—moves.)

“Oh.”

“And most of us have known each other since like… kindergarten.”

“You’re telling me that in this huge city, you all grew up together like a bunch of small town hillbillies?”

“ _Hillbillies_?” Thomas faces Newt and mock-gasps.

Newt chuckles, head tilted to one side so he can see Thomas next to him; they are sitting quite close to each other. (Closer than necessary.) “I learned what a hillbilly is last night on the telly. Americans are weird.”

Thomas cocks an eyebrow. “You call TV a _telly_ , so I have to disagree.”

“Still,” Newt said. “I can’t believe that almost everyone here has to go to school with the kids that have seen them at their worst.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that you’ve all known each other since primary school—elementary, whatever.” Newt rolls his eyes. “So you all know who… I don’t know. Pooped his pants in class that one time. Or which little boy got bullied by some older girls. Which one cried the longest when their mommy dropped them off at school.”

Thomas thinks about that for a moment. “Well, we all had our embarrassing moments. We still do now. I mean, look at Teresa’s hair.” He laughs a little.

“Yeah, I guess,” Newt responds. “I’m just saying that I’d probably switch schools if I had peed my pants in the playground.”

Thomas smiles. “Is that why you moved here then?” This whole time, Thomas has been curious about where Newt is from. He knows enough about England—he’s not _five_. It’s just that Newt is more of a _what’s-happening-now_ person than a _reminiscing-the-past_ type of guy. He tends to talk a lot about what he did in class, or the movie he watched the night before, or commentate on the chess game Teresa was playing. As a result, Thomas has learned little about Newt’s life in England.

Newt rolls his eyes again, this time the gesture carries a sense of fondness. “You’ve probably been waiting to ask me that since December, haven’t you?”

“No,” Thomas lies. Newt may not know a lot of people in the school but he sure knows Thomas.

“That sounds like a ‘yes’ to me,” Newt grins. “But no, I didn’t do something stupid and then move across the ocean to make myself feel better.” He doesn’t continue after that, seemingly waiting for a response.

“So…?”

“I knew you were curious!” Newt exclaims as if he had won a game. “My dad had to move for work.” He turns to face forward and Thomas does the same. Teresa is close to winning. “His boss’s boss or something wanted him to move here for some reason. Something to do with Wall Street, I think,” he elaborates. “So I moved with him.”

“So you’re gonna be here forever now?” Thomas asks. He's always wondered if Newt is going to go back to England. He’s hoped that it isn’t reality. Newt is such a good friend and Thomas has never really clicked with anyone else besides Teresa.

“No,” Newt says, shattering Thomas’s hopes with just one word. “Dad said we’re here for a few years then we get to go back.”

“How long?” he asks. He wants to smile at the sound of Teresa yelling _checkmate_ but all his concentration is somehow focused on him holding his breath.

“Four years, I think,” he replies.

And just like that, a countdown begins in Thomas’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the lack of Newt content in this chapter but you'll see more of him in the next chapter. Promise!  
> If you guys have any questions or just wanna say hi, you can reach me on [my tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait with this one. But Newt is in it! Dun dun dun!

**2008**

The day Thomas turns twelve is a Monday. He receives a gift from Teresa and Chuck (a pencil case because his one is falling apart) and from his mother (new school shoes which he wears as soon as he opens them in the morning). When he and Teresa get to school, he is surprised to see Newt with a small, neatly wrapped, blue package.

Newt waves when he sees Thomas, then waves the present in his hand. “Happy birthday, Tommy!” he shouts.

Thomas grins, excited to open yet another present although he is slightly confused as to how the other boy knew when his birthday is. With Teresa following closely behind, he jogs up to meet him.

“Happy Birthday! I got you something,” Newt says as he hands over the small square.

“Thanks!” Thomas rips open the wrapping paper. “How did you even know it was my birthday?”

“Teresa told me the day we met.”

Thomas looks between his two friends. “Why?”

“Because I asked.” Newt shrugs. “I like to know the birthdays of my friends.”

Thomas wonders what made Newt think they were going to end up as friends on the day they met, especially since he wasn’t exactly being nice at first. He decides not to ask. The present turns out to be a book. Some sort of puzzle book.

“Do you like it?” Newt asks.

“I don’t know,” Thomas replies honestly. “What is it?”

“It’s Sudoku,” he answers, matter-of-fact. “My dad says it’s like maths but not really.”

“Okay?”

“See, you’re good at maths but maths is stupid.”

Thomas rolls his eyes. There is an envelope attached to the blue wrapping paper which he smiles at. “I’m not thirteen!” he exclaims as he opens the card.

“Huh?” The other boy looks like he thinks he is being made fun of. “I just turned thirteen. We’re all in the same class.” His expression screams ‘ _duh!’_

Teresa starts to laugh; Thomas had almost forgotten she is with them. “Tom skipped first grade because he’s such a smarty-pants.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Thomas explains.

“You didn’t give the teachers much choice since you’re a know-it-all,” Teresa chuckles. “And he missed me too much. Kept asking why he couldn’t just study with me since he knew all of the stuff they were teaching him anyway.”

“Wow,” Newt laughs. “Clingy.”

Thomas ignores them. Flipping the book over in his hands, he says, “Well, you’re gonna have to teach me how to do this.”

Still giggling, Newt begins to make his way to his locker. “You can come over to my place after school. I don’t live very far from here. Teresa, you can join us!”

Teresa nods. “Yeah okay! We’ll have to check with our parents first though.”

“Okay. I got a PSP as well that we can play with.”

“Aw, cool!” Teresa says. She is much more interested in video games than he is, but even Thomas has to admit: a PSP would be awesome to play with.

 

* * *

 

**2017**

Months go by and Thomas graduates, finishing his final year with a bang. Minho’s words.

Minho seemed happier about Thomas getting laid than he did. “It just happens so rarely,” Minho explained when questioned by Teresa. “He’s always so grumpy and studious.”

It’s summer and Thomas loves summer. The athletics team has all-year-round access to a track near the college so he can go whenever he likes (even if he isn’t really on the team anymore) and the California sun makes him smile. Also, Teresa takes over Minho’s room while Minho goes home to Washington. It’s the only time Minho ever cleans his room because as tough as he looks, everyone is afraid of Teresa.

After today’s coffee run, she comes home empty-handed with a frown on her face.

“Uh, where my coffee?” Thomas asks as she frowns some more.

“They’re closed.”

“What, why? It’s should be open by now.”

“No, it’s closed for good. The sign’s gone and everything. Someone outside told me the owners are moving so they sold the place.”

Which is how Thomas spends half an hour almost weeping (Where is he going to get his caffeine now?) before deciding to find another coffee shop. Teresa decides to stay at the apartment and ‘try to get the feet and dirt smell out of Minho’s room so I can sleep, damn it!’

The only occupant of the sky is the sun, shining brightly and steadily as always. However, the temperature is lower than expected at this time of the year so hot coffee is still a yes. Thomas misses his hometown but he hasn’t got enough money saved up to fly to New York. Besides, Teresa loves coming to Cali for the summer and he had taught his parents how to Skype when he started college.

He passes a shop that looks very empty (empty = bad coffee) before walking into one with a small line. He’s not in a rush and jumping onto the bandwagon seems like a good idea when you’ve only been going to one coffee shop for the most part of three years.

That is until he hears a certain voice with a British accent. “I don’t care if you’re busy, Alby,” the voice is saying from the side of the counter to the barista behind it. “I’m not starting early and you have enough people.”

Thomas has to get out of there, stat, because Newt has turned around even though the barista is calling, “But Newt I need a break!”

He’s already outside when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Ah, damn it,” he mumbles. He’s not going to get out of this now and he still isn’t caffeinated. When he turns around, Newt has his camera up and he takes a picture of Thomas’ tired and frustrated face which only makes Thomas more tired and frustrated.

“Hey, Thomas,” Newt says as he lowers the camera.

Thomas tries to smile, he really does, but he can feel how fake it is. “Hey,” he says, because it’s not like he can just run away now. Newt was always faster than him.

“You need coffee, don’t you?” asks Newt. “Hang on.”

He shuts his eyes then counts to ten with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose. When he tries to recall when he last had to do this, he remembers that Newt is just the root of all his problems. Briefly, he thinks of escaping right now but it seems like Newt is really staying in the area, so bumping into him again would be an even more awkward situation.

“Tommy?” Newt’s voice makes him look up. The guy is still about the same height as Thomas but his hair is a little longer (and a little darker) that it was when they were in high school. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt (short sleeves, crew neck, looks just this side of too big) and black ripped jeans, with his huge camera (Nikon, it reads) around his neck. And he’s still holding the cup of coffee out.

Thomas takes it because coffee comes before unresolved issues with your not-ex-boyfriend. “Thanks.”

He’s already drinking when Newt says, “I hope that’s still how you like it. Black, one sugar?”

He hums as he lets the caffeine sink in a little, then smiles shyly at Newt, trying to come up with an excuse as to why he never called.

“Better?” Newt asks. “Alby says he’s never seen you in the shop before…” He trails off when he sees the vacant look on Thomas’ face. “Oh, Alby’s the owner,” he explains, nodding his head towards the building. It has a sign (new and recently cleaned) that reads ‘The Homestead’ which Thomas thinks is a strange name for a coffee shop. “The one behind the counter.”

“I haven’t been here. My normal place shut down,” he replies with what he assumes is the same frown Teresa was wearing when she told him the same news.

“Ah. Alby’s shop was too good competition?” Newt is trying to lighten up the mood. Thomas isn’t sure if it’s working.

He rolls his eyes in response. “The owners are moving or something.”

“Ah,” he says again, nodding.

Feeling awkward, Thomas clears his throat. “I lost your number,” he lies and hopes that Newt doesn’t notice.

He doesn’t seem to. “Oh, right. That’s fine. Are you in a rush or do you want to go inside and we can catch up, maybe?”

 _Neither_ , he wants to say, but damn it. Newt’s giving him the puppy eyes. (Teresa always used to tell him that once Newt does the puppy eyes, Thomas just says yes… Oh!) Teresa! “Well, Teresa is at my place right now, if you’re in the mood for a reunion.” This way, he won’t have to do it alone.

Newt’s eyes seem to light up which makes Thomas smile. People may be afraid of Teresa but they can’t help but love her, too. “Yeah, cool.”

*

They walk in comfortable silence which makes Thomas nervous because familiarity will lead to talking which will lead to talking about things that he does _not_ want to talk about. Newt seems to have hurt his foot because he’s walking weird, but Thomas doesn’t mention it. He’ll dump him onto Teresa and get some advanced reading done.

*

The sound of the television could be heard through the door as Thomas turns the key to open it.

“Did you find anything?” Teresa asks from the couch. (She's changed into more comfortable clothing—cotton shorts—and her hair is down.)

“Oh, just this guy,” he replies. As soon as Teresa sees Newt, she squeals and jumps off the sofa to hug him.

“Oh my god, Newwwt!”

The boy hugs her back while he laughs into her hair. “Hi Teresa,” he murmurs. “Thomas didn’t react like this at all.”

“That’s because he is such a grandpa,” says Teresa as she pulls back. They stand side by side with their arms at each other’s backs.

Thomas is beginning to think this was a bad decision already. “Why are you ganging up on me already? It’s been five seconds!”

Newt purses his lips and looks at Teresa. “Wow, he _is_ such a grandpa.”

“Hey, where’s _my_ coffee?”

“Oh, I only got that for Tommy because his brain was buffering without the caffeine,” Newt explains then looks at Thomas. “Why’d you leave the shop without getting anything, anyway?”

 _Damn._ “Line was too long.”

Newt smiles a little. “So you’re still impatient, then?”

Shaking his head, Thomas drains that last of his coffee. “Anyway, I was just telling Newt that I lost that card he gave me ages ago,” he tells Teresa pointedly.

Thankfully, she gets the hint. “Oh, yes. He told me about that,” she says to Newt. “I was so disappointed in him.”

“That’s alright, Tommy. I’m here now, right?” Newt says.

Thomas turns around to go and throw his cup away (but also because this is not how he saw his day going and he can’t have two panic attacks in the same day.) “Right.”

*

Two and a half hours later, Thomas is on his laptop looking for a new apartment closer to his new university which is a little further away (he’s going to do a Masters in engineering at a different school) and Teresa is still chatting Newt’s ear off about how much she hates her boss. Thomas is only half listening at this point, attempting and failing to find a cheap place for one. Minho doesn’t really want to move; he managed to land a job nearby.

“Why don’t you just quit?” Newt queries which Thomas scoffs at.

“I’ve been telling her that for years.”

Teresa just rolls her eyes at him. “It pays well. I’m trying to save up ‘cause Chuck is going to college next year.”

“What?” Newt is clearly taken aback. “He was just a baby when I last saw him.”

 _Yeah, well it’s been a while since you left_ , Thomas wants to say.

“Don’t exaggerate, Newt,” replies Teresa. “He’ll want to see you.”

“Oh god, I’d love to see him,” Newt says, almost wistfully. Thomas closes another tab and scrolls through more apartment options, trying not to wonder if Newt missed them at all when he left. “I’ve been meaning to get to New York but I’ve so busy with work and coursework and more work.”

Newt has told them that he’s taking a photography course at a small Arts college near Thomas’s university which is why he’s here in America. When he’s not at school, he works at Alby’s coffee shop and occasionally, is hired as a photographer.

“He might visit us here before I go back home in a couple of weeks,” Teresa says. “He’ll be doing architecture at Tom’s old school so Tom offered to take him around some good places in here to buy food and stuff. I can call you if he decides to come?”

“Sure. I’ll give you my number.”

Teresa clucks her tongue. “My phone’s dead,” she says, which Thomas thinks is weird because she always makes sure it never runs out of battery just in case her boss calls her in for an emergency (even if she’s on holiday). “Thomas, I’ll just put it on your phone and get it from you later.”

Thomas glares at her from the table across the room. She fucking planned this. “You could just write it down on paper.”

She shakes her head as she picks up Thomas’s phone from where he left it on the couch. “Nah, your phone is right here. Besides, this way, you’ll have his number too.”

Newt hums in agreement. “Good that. Gimme your numbers as well.”

Then, Thomas has another one of those lightbulb moments. “T, where's Chuck staying when he moves here?”

“Hmm? I don’t know. Why?”

“He could come live with me? He would have to commute but at least his roommate won’t be a random teenager doing drugs off of his bedframe.”

Newt chimes in, “I thought you had a roommate. Minho, you said earlier?”

“Tom wants to move out,” Teresa replies.

“Why? Your new school isn’t massively far from here.”

“It’s so he can get more sleep in the morning basically.”

Newt shakes his head and laughs.

Thomas steers the conversation back. The two of them always used to get lost in other topics when left to converse on their own. “So what do you think?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Teresa says seriously. “You can ask him if he comes. Or call him.”

“What’s your old roommate gonna do?” Newt asks curiously.

“Look for a new roommate. He knows a lot of people, I’m sure he’ll find someone.” (Minho doesn’t even seem to be stressed about it.)

The other boy rubs his neck sheepishly. “Do you think I can ask him about it? I’m kinda sleeping on Alby’s sofa at the moment.”

“Oh.” Thomas knows Minho wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t sure how comfortable he was with meddling Minho being roomies with Newt though.

“It’s alright if he doesn’t want to live with someone he doesn’t know,” Newt backtracks, taking Thomas’s hesitance as a ‘no’. “You’ve just got a good place. Two bedrooms and a proper kitchen.”

Thomas remembers Newt cooking all the time back in high school, then he curses himself for thinking of fond memories. He needs to only think of why they never talked since then so that this whole scenario doesn’t become a regular thing.

“It’s the best possible option I’ve seen so far,” Newt continues. “It’s fine though. I only asked just in case.”

Politely, Thomas says, “I’ll ask him and let you know.” He won’t do either. This Newt shebang ends today.

“Oh, okay.” Newt smiles at him widely. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Ah, great. He’s gonna talk to Minho about this now, isn’t he? “I don’t actually know if kitchen is even functional. Minho and I can’t cook for shit.”

“What the hell do you eat then?”

“Ramen noodles,” Teresa answers for him at the same time he says, “Take-out, mostly.”

“And ramen noodles,” he adds.

As Newt chuckles and shakes his head, he pulls out his phone to check the time. “Bloody hell. I need to go. I’m going to be late for lunch time rush hour at The Homestead.”

“Aww, you just got here.” Teresa whines. Thomas, on the other hand, stands up to get the door.

“I’ll see you guys around,” Newt says as he walks toward Thomas.

Teresa gives him another hug and Thomas reluctantly shakes his hand and then he’s gone.

Thomas doesn’t want to say good riddance but... “Good riddance.”

“Tom!” shouts Teresa.

“Sorry, but that was just three hours of awkwardness for him and I.”

Teresa clicks her tongue. “Did Newt hurt his leg?”

“What? I don’t know,” he replies.

“He limped out of the door, Thomas.”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “I didn’t notice.” He paused. “Actually, he was limping on the way here too.”

“Hmm. Maybe he sprained it,” Teresa says, and she takes her phone out of her pocket to call Chuck.

“I knew it!” Thomas exclaims. “I knew your phone wasn’t dead.”

“Oh don’t be such a child, Thomas. You need to talk to him at some point.”

“No. No, I don’t.”

Teresa glares at him while she speaks into her phone. “Hey, Chuck. You busy?”

Thomas goes back to apartment shopping and attempts to not think about Newt. It works. Mostly.

 

* * *

 

**2008**

Thomas is very much looking forward to eighth grade. They will no longer be the Newbies in the school and their classes will be much more interesting.

“What are you smiling about there, Tommy?” Newt’s voice breaks through his thoughts. Thomas looks up to see him grinning mischievously.

“He’s probably thinking about homework,” Teresa jokes as she bites into an apple.

“You guys are annoying,” he says. He brings his attention back to the book in his hand.

Newt leans forward to read the title. “ _Frankenstein_.”

“Well done, you can read,” Thomas says, deadpan.

“What did the librarian say when she saw a twelve-year-old borrow a horror story?”

“It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve borrowed,” he replies. “Besides, this is Teresa’s.”

Newt stares at Teresa like she’s crazy. “What?” she says. “He wanted to borrow it so I gave it to him.”

“No, see, the problem is that you’re both reading our literature assignments before we’re even assigned them. I don’t get it.”

Teresa smirks. “Well, I know why I’m doing it: to look like a genius and answer all the questions when the class hasn’t read it yet.”

Shaking his head, Newt grabs the book from Thomas’s hands. The latter yelps out a “Hey!” even though it wasn’t like he was really reading it anyway.

“I guess I know that Tommy’s reading it ‘cause he’s a nerd.” Newt frowns, turning the novel in his hands to read the synopsis on the back.

“Of course,” Teresa agrees. “Nothing new.”

Thomas frowns but says nothing. Teresa always teases him; it's how she shows people that she likes them. Newt can be a little mean sometimes but Thomas thinks that he doesn't really mean it. Besides, Newt calls it 'friendly banter'. (Teresa calls it 'pulling pigtails'.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and for being so patient with me. I really do appreciate all the feedback you guys have been giving me and honestly it's the main reason why I'm still trying to dedicate as much time as I can to this fic. I'm gonna be doing some long hours at work in the next few weeks so unfortunately I can't give a definite date for the next update but I'm not abandoning this fic, I promise!  
> You can always reach me by dropping me an ask on tumblr, my askbox is always open :)  
> my [ tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!! New chapter!! Things go a little sideways in this one, whoopsies.

**2008**

The three of them spend the summer together, mostly at Newt’s place. His dad is the only adult available to supervise them.

Chuck, Teresa’s foster brother, decides to come along with them on this particular day, which excites Thomas extremely. Chuck is pretty cool.

He sees the two of them waiting outside the apartment complex he lives in and runs out to meet them. “High five, Chuck!” Thomas holds his hand up as high as it could go.

The eight-year-old jumps and slaps Thomas’ palm hard. “Thought I couldn’t reach it?”

“No,” Thomas says solemnly. Chuck is small for his age, but so is Thomas. He just likes teasing the kid sometimes.

Teresa laughs at the both of them, muttering something about ‘boys’.

They talk about different things on the way to Newt’s: Chuck’s new friend George, the graffiti on the back of a road sign. Thomas and Teresa tell Chuck as much as they can about Newt.

“He sounds weird,” Chuck remarks after hearing Thomas retell the story of how Newt argued with their chemistry teacher about the pronunciation of _aluminum._

“Well, he is.” Teresa runs a hand through her hair and gathers it into a ponytail. Her hair has grown since the disaster from January. She’s going through a weird phase where she keeps her hair up at all times.

Smiling, Chuck says, “Can’t wait to meet him.”

 

* * *

 

**2017**

See, the problem is that no matter how hard Thomas tries to stay away from Newt, like a moth to a flame, he always, always fails. It feels like middle school all over again. That’s how he finds himself going to The Homestead the following week when (unusually) it rains, so he has an excuse to get coffee without feeling like he’s just there to see Newt.

The line isn’t as long as it was when he came here the first time but the guy behind the counter is the same as it was then. He tells himself that he’s not disappointed.

When he gets to the counter, he orders his coffee and is about to pay when the guy—Alby, he remembers now—says, “You’re Thomas?”

And what can Thomas do but nod slowly like a shy six-year-old. So Newt told Alby about him. So what?

Alby grins and turns to call out, “Newt! Get your skinny ass out here.”

Thomas looks around to see if anyone was bothered by the shouting and the slight profanity but there’s no one in the line behind him and the people at the tables don’t seem to care.

Newt pops his head out of the door frame of the back office and immediately smiles when his eyes land on Thomas.

“Hey.” Newt comes around the counter and stands a little too close.

Alby hands him his coffee so Thomas uses that as a way to step back. “Hey. I just came for coffee,” he lies. And then cowardly he adds, “I do have to go now though.”

Newt must think he’s a total douche now, never having a proper conversation with him. But Newt pouts and it makes Thomas think of high school again. It's horrible except it's not. “You can’t stay?”

 _You didn’t_ , Thomas thinks and then he feels stupid because it was never even Newt’s fault. “Sorry” is all he says. He is about to go without saying anything else like a dickhead, but he can’t. He turns back. “Chuck is gonna be here in a few days. Teresa said she’ll call when he gets here.”

“Yeah,” Newt replies, although it sounds like he’s answering something else. “Yeah, okay.”

Thomas leaves after that.

When Chuck visits, he’s the one that texts Newt to come over: _Chuck is here. Come over tomorrow for dinner at 5._

He doesn’t entertain the small talk that Newt tries to engage him in: _K tommy. Should i bring wine to this formal dinner? :p_

He doesn’t reply. He wants to, but he doesn’t.

*

“It’s such a coincidence that Newt’s here,” Chuck says to him. They’re sitting on the couch watching Steven Universe even though Chuck has already seen this episode.

Now, Thomas knows this. He’s thought about it a lot. Like… a _lot_. Because what are the odds that Newt moves to America for college and decides to go to Cali not back to New York? And so close to where Thomas is. He’s spent whole nights thinking of scenarios where Newt researches where Thomas is going to school and plans to move into that area. Scenarios where Newt intentionally goes outside the building that he had a lecture in that day, waiting for him to come along so they could meet again. But then he remembers that Newt was shocked to see him too.

And that Newt probably couldn’t care less about him anyway.

He hums in reply to Chuck. He doesn’t really know how to respond.

“Do you think he knew you’re here?”

Thomas shrugs with his eyes still on the screen. “Don’t think so,” he says honestly. “He seemed surprised when we first saw each other.”

In the corner of his eye, he sees Chuck shrug as well. Then the conversation is forgotten as they talk about cartoons.

Much later on, the ring of the doorbell takes the both of them out of their bubble. By unspoken agreement, Chuck gets the door. Thomas moves to stay on the armrest of the couch with his feet planted on one of the seats so he can watch the door swing open.

Newt walks in with Teresa, a camera bag slung on his shoulder and Teresa’s hand loosely in his. He’s laughing and the sound of it is both familiar and foreign. As they step through the doorway, he lets go of Teresa to embrace Chuck.

“Bloody hell, I missed you a lot, little green-bean,” he murmurs into Chuck’s mop of curls.

Thomas looks on, his heart warmed by the sight of them together.

“I can’t say I feel the same, slinthead,” Chuck replies, the words muffles by Newt’s chest. They all laugh and Thomas notices how Teresa’s eyes look glassy.

He gets it… sort of. She probably feels like she’s watching her brothers reunite. She’s always said that Newt was a mentor of sorts to Chuck. Thomas almost feels jealous, because _he’s_ always treated Chuck like a little brother. But unlike Newt, Thomas has always been around. So. Thomas: 1, Newt: 0.

Newt’s still laughing as he says, “Seems like you’re lying, considering how tightly you’re hugging me right now.”

Chuck lets go immediately, face pink. “Whatever.”

Teresa blinks the water from her eyes a few times while she pats Newt on the back. “Don’t mind him. He’s still in his ‘grumpy teenager’ stage,” she tells him.

Chuck pouts. “Am not.”

Newt chuckles. “Sure, mate.”

“See what I mean?” Teresa says.

Newt locks eyes with Thomas and he smiles wider. “Heya, Tommy.” There’s the slightest hint of a smirk on his lips. “You want a hug too?”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“You sure you want to miss out on this?” Newt gestures towards himself which makes Chuck snicker.

“Not sure I’m missing out on anything,” he replies, trying to be harsh (because he _hates_ him, damn it) but he’s smiling too much for the words to carry any malice. He eyes Newt up and down deliberately, taking in his blond hair and slightly sunken cheeks, the small diameter of his arms and waist, the way he’s standing with more weight being held by his right side. “Too skinny for my taste,” he adds.

“Oh, you’ve acquired taste now?” Newt asks with his hands on his hips. “Last I remember, you had none.”

“Yeah?” And this is dangerous: the ease with which they’ve picked up on their weird flirting like they have always been doing this. It needs to end. Thomas stops grinning. “Well, you’ve been gone a while.”

The smirk drops off of Newt’s face at the same time his hands fall from his hips. No one says anything. Chuck clears his throat not-so-subtly.

Thomas tries to breathe evenly. Counts to ten. “Alright then,” he says. “Who wants pizza?”

*

It’s late and Chuck has gone to sleep in Minho’s room. Teresa sits with her feet on Thomas’ lap, idly shuffling the stack of cards they were using to play poker. Newt is flicking through TV channels from his place on the other loveseat with the volume low.

“This apartment is a mess,” Teresa mutters, making a face at the mass of ketchup dripping from the side Chuck’s plate and the pizza crust on the floor.

Newt starts to get up. “I’m the one who’s visiting so I’ll clear this up. You must do this all the time.”

“You don’t need to,” Teresa says, swinging her legs off the couch. When Newt doesn’t sit back down and just begins to pick up plates, Teresa rolls her eyes fondly and doesn't protest.

Thomas gets up too, but only to go and sit where Newt left the remote control. He lives here permanently and always has to clean up after Minho; he deserves a day off. The seat is warm. He changes the channel.

He doesn’t know how much time passes since he has let his mind wander away from whatever mind-numbing TV show is playing. At some point, Teresa falls asleep on the couch and Newt sits beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Newt asks, preceded by nothing.

“About what?” Thomas asks back. They’ve been making small talk all evening, and now that everyone else is sleeping, he doesn’t see the point in talking to each other at all.

“Um… About what you said earlier?”

“What did I—” he starts but then he remembers. _Well, you’ve been gone a while_. And yeah, “No. Nope. I’m good.”

“I don’t know how to talk to you anymore, Thomas,” he says softly. “It’s like you’re fine one moment then suddenly you’re angry.”

“Well, that’s me now,” he replies, immediately irritated. Does Newt think everything will just be the same and they’ll all just go back to the way things were? “Get used to it.”

“I don’t even know what I did to upset you.”

“You haven’t upset me.”

That gets Newt a little frustrated. “So who keeps pissing in your coffee then? ‘Cause you seem pretty damn angry a lot of the time.”

“I’m not angry, Newt!” he exclaims. And then realizes that he’s shouting. “I’m not angry,” he repeats, quieter, and hopes he hasn’t woken Teresa. He focuses on his breathing; four seconds in, two seconds out.

“Really?” Newt drawls. Four in, two out. “That sounded calm.” Four in, two out.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says flatly. “Good night, Newt. Please close the door properly on your way out; it sticks sometimes.”

He gets up and goes to his room, leaving the other boy with the gentle drone of the television.

 

* * *

 

**2008**

Newt and Chuck end up getting along really well. Not that there was any doubt that they would. Plus, Chuck is very interested in Newt’s drawings. (Thomas may not be talented when comes to art but he can tell that Newt is good.)

When Teresa mentioned it, Newt replied, “I knew we would get on from what you’d told me.” Then to Chuck he said, _“Innit,_ Chuck?”

Chuck burst out laughing. “You really do talk weird.”

“See, _you_ all talk funny to me.”

“Majority wins,” Thomas cut in. “We all think you’re the weird one here.”

“All part of my charm, Tommy,” Newt smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Once again, thank you for your patience and your support. You guys inspire me to continue writing this fic even when I'm getting frustrated with myself about where I'm trying to direct the story. You know when you have a clear vision of where you want a story to go but when you write it, it's just not going in the right direction? Yeah, that's a huge problem of mine. Your comments/feedback mean everything to me :)  
> As always, you can also reach me in my [tumblr askbox](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com/ask).  
> my [tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, I KNOW. This has been a long time coming. I'm really sorry for the long wait. It's been a combination of long working hours and writer's block. Plus, I'm trying to stay two chapters ahead so that I can change some small things if I want as I go along (which means I'm currently writing chapter seven). You guys are so patient and sweet and I love you all.

**2008**

As he pulls back the curtains to see outside, he sees Newt approaching the building. Teresa is humming that Taylor Swift song under her breath and it’s driving Thomas nuts. She won’t listen to him when he asks her to shut up.

The three of them have some homework—not a lot, it’s only eighth grade—but they decided to spend Saturday afternoon working together at Thomas’s house. His parents are working but his mother left some food in the refrigerator that they can heat up if they get hungry.

Thomas opens the door before Newt is out of the apartment elevator. “Hey Tommy,” Newt greets him as he steps inside.

“Could you please tell Teresa to shut the hell up,” he says in response. It’s the first time he has used the word ‘hell’ as a curse.

Newt doesn’t react much, just raises his eyebrows and replies, “Why? I love that song.”

Thomas groans. It’s as if one day Newt just decided that he didn’t want to be on Thomas’s side anymore and switched over to always team up with Teresa. “You probably don’t even know the song. You’re just saying that to annoy me.”

The other boy smiles as he sits next to Teresa. “ _It’s a love story. Baby, just say yes,_ ” he sings alongside the girl.

Teresa grins up at him as well. “Tom, you just can’t win these days, can you?” she teases.

The two of them end up playing on Newt’s PSP while Thomas reads his book, quietly simmering in jealousy.

 

* * *

 

**2017**

Of course, Thomas knows he’s at fault. So yes, once again, Thomas goes crawling back to the Homestead. Since Chuck left, he’s wanted to talk to Teresa but she’s been preoccupied. Today, for example, she was already out by the time he woke up.

Thomas walks. It’s good enough cardio since he has been slacking off lately on keeping in shape. He wonders if Newt still runs. He remembers how Newt looked the last time they were together: tan but that could be from snapping photos outdoors, skinny not toned but that could just be because he’s limping. (How did he hurt his leg anyway? Most likely a sprain. He’s only limping slightly.)

Alby greets him when he arrives at the Homestead. (Not busy. A group of students sit in a corner seemingly doing school work.) “Hey, Thomas!”

“Hey,” he says, distracted and looking for Newt. Maybe he’s in the back. “Alby, right?”

“Yeah,” replies Alby with a smile. “What can I get you today?”

“Coffee please, one sugar. And can I talk to Newt?”

Alby kisses his teeth as he get to work on the coffee. “Okay on the coffee but no on talking to Newt,” he says. “It’s his day off and he’s gone apartment hunting.”

“Apartment hunting?” Thomas asks, pressing his card against the reader and waiting for it to beep.

“Guy insists on moving out. It’s like he doesn’t understand what a nice gesture is.” Alby hands over the coffee and leans back against the counter behind him. “He’s sleeping on my couch at the moment,” he then explains.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“I know the couch isn’t luxury but I know it’s more about the fact that I won’t take money from him as rent.” Thomas looks at Alby, really looks. _He_ clearly doesn’t miss any gym days, and even though he’s got his arms casually crossed in front of him, he exerts an air of confidence and leadership. Still, he seems kind. “So he’s apartment hunting.”

That’s when it hits Thomas that he was supposed to talk to Minho about this. _Shit_.

“But I thought you knew that,” Alby continues. “He’s with your other friend. Teresa?”

_Goddamnit._ He sighs. “Right. Of course. Thanks, dude.”

Alby shrugs it off. “Anytime.”

*

Minho doesn’t pick up. He’s about to try again when Minho calls him back.

“Hey, Minho.”

“Hey dude! What’s up?” He sounds breathless.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, amused.

“Not really,” Minho says. “I’m at the gym. You okay?”

“I’m good,” he replies absently, wondering how to phrase the question. He hasn’t even told Minho that Newt has been around recently. Every time they talk (mostly via text) he’s left those turns of events out. Multiple times. “Listen, I just wanna ask you something. But you don’t need to say yes.”

“Okay?”

“Well, you know Newt,” Thomas starts.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of knowing him, Thomas, since you’re avoiding him like the plague,” Minho jokes. “But go on.”

“He’s currently crashing at a friend’s place but he’s looking for an apartment,” Thomas sighs. “Anyway, he knows I’m moving out so he asked me to find out if you’ve got a replacement.”

“I could never replace you in my heart, Thomas,” he says and Thomas can hear the smirk in his voice. “Wait, wait, wait, back up a second,” he exclaims suddenly.

“Oh god, here we go.”

“Newt asked you this? You talked to him? How’d you even see him again?”

“Yes, yes and he works at the new coffee place.”

Then Minho starts laughing. “Wow, this guy is really everywhere.”

Thomas isn’t really in the mood to pour his heart out to Minho about how right he is. “Anyway, is that a yes on the replacement? Okay, good. Bye.”

“No, no, no!” Minho says, still laughing. “I wanna know everything!”

“Okay, well, I saw him when I went to get coffee when our usual place closed and I—”

“Wait! That long ago? You didn’t even tell me.”

Thomas ignores the interruption. “I brought him back to our apartment so he could see Teresa. I was looking for other places while he was there and the conversation came up.”

“So…” says Minho slowly. It makes Thomas suspicious. “You guys talking now then?”

“No,” Thomas replies sharply, defensive for no reason. “We had an argument while Chuck was here.”

“So he’s been coming over a lot then?” Minho asks conspiratorially.

“Only twice. To see Teresa, then to see Chuck,” Thomas explains. “And before you ask: no. He hasn’t come over to see _me_.”

“Alright. I like him already. I guess we’re moving in together.”

Thomas groans unconsciously. He’s so conflicted about all of this. “You haven’t even met him yet.” He says this as an excuse for Minho to change his mind but he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. All it’s going to do is make Minho want to meet—

“Let’s arrange a meeting, then.”

_Great._

*

Chuck is here. Come over tomorrow for dinner at 5.

K tommy. Should i bring wine to this formal dinner? :p

 

Thomas stares at the messages. He never replied to Newt’s text. He had wanted to say so many things. Too many. _We are not friends so stop pretending we are._ Or, _You know I hate wine, shank XD._ Or, _Bring something stronger._ Or, _Stay out of my life._ Or, _I loved you, you fucking asshole, and you ruined it._

He lets himself breathe deep and taps the call icon.

Newt doesn’t pick up until Thomas is about to cut the call and just forget about it. “I wasn’t gonna answer since you might just shout at me again but Teresa insisted.”

“So you’re with Teresa?” Thomas says, ignoring the beginning part.

“Yes. Do you want me to pass the phone to her?” (Angry? Is he mad? It’s hard to read the tone of Newt’s voice since it’s flat as hell.) “I went outside because she can get a bit snoopy.”

“No, I wanted to talk to you,” Thomas grits out.

Silence. (Heavy silence.)

“Okay, so I owe you an apology,” he starts. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m just… I don’t know how we’re supposed to act here. Like we’re old friends? New friends?”

Newt sighs. “You’re over-thinking this, Thomas. Like you always do.”

_What’s that supposed to mean?_ he almost says. Instead he replies, “I know,” because it’s the truth.

“What do you want?” And of course, Newt is the bigger person here, asking what Thomas wants, selfless as always.

But Thomas doesn’t know how to answer. His gut reaction is to tell Newt that he wants him to fuck off but is that _really_ what he wants? If not, then what? Are they supposed to just pick up where they left off? Because hell to the no.

“Thomas?” Newt says, soft and encouraging.

“Could we just start over?”

“Okay,” Newt replies, smile evident now in his voice. “New friends it is.”

_New friends_ , Thomas thinks, _I can do that_.

He shifts his feet and tries to hide his blushing face even though Newt can’t see him. He can’t even see Newt smiling, why is he like this?

“Okay,” he repeats. “As your new friend, I asked Minho about you taking my room when I leave and he wants to meet you.”

“Oh, that’s great,” Newt says. “I really hope he likes me because all of the places I’ve seen so far are either too shitty or too expensive and I don’t know anyone else in need of a flat-share.”

“I’m sure he will,” Thomas tells him, without meaning to.

“Thank you… What’s your name again, new friend? Trevor?”

He smiles. “Thomas,” he says, playing along.

“Tommy. Got it,” Newt teases. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“Shut up.”

*

Newt visits him and Teresa again a few days later, the night before Teresa goes back to New York. It’s a little awkward, mostly Thomas’s fault because it's not easy to let go. Minho calls that evening to talk to Newt about meeting up and exchanging numbers. They both insisted that Thomas should be there for their first meet up.

Thomas thinks that the meeting is pointless now since they obviously are in love with each other already and they should just move in together and make a living out of torturing him and... It’s kind of ( ~~endearing~~ ) annoying how fast Newt gets along with Thomas’s friends.

*

The Homestead is not too busy today which is perfect because it means they don’t have to wait for Newt to be on a break. He signals ‘one minute’ with a finger when he spots Thomas and Minho at one of the tables.

“Sorry, guys,” Newts pants as he approaches the table. “I just had to put some brownies in the oven.”

“You make brownies?” Minho says. “I like you, already. Move in with me.”

Thomas groans while the two boys laugh. Minho can be a little ridiculous sometimes. “Minho, this is Newt. Newt, Minho.”

They shake hands while Minho says, “Really great to meet you, man. I’ve heard so much yet so little about you.”

“I know exactly how you feel,” Newt replies, glancing at Thomas. “This one," he points. "isn’t very good at this.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Oh-kay,” Thomas drawls and he stands up, getting a distinct feeling that the two of them are starting to gang up on him. “My job is done. I’m leaving now.”

“No,” Newt says as Minho tugs his arms and commands, “Sit.”

“I guess I don’t have a choice then,” he mumbles.

“So,” Minho directs at Newt, disregarding him completely. “I’ve been living with Thomas for three years and he’s one cranky son of a bitch. Please tell me you’re nice.”

“Um, I _can_ be if that’s what it takes to get his room,” Newt replies.

Minho smiles. Thomas knows that Newt will get it. Minho trusts Newt because Thomas does.

“And I’ll cook you brownies whenever you want,” Newt adds, which is a bad idea to put on the table since Minho would marry brownies if he wasn’t on varsity track. “Or cook anything really. Thomas says you guys live on take-out.”

“Dude, I think you’re my soulmate,” Minho says.

And that is how Newt and Minho decide to move in together.

 

* * *

 

**2008**

“Let me guess,” a voice says from beside him. “They started dating and ditched you as the third wheel.”

Thomas looks up from his book and sees that Brenda has sat down on the bench to his right. She raises an eyebrow and nods toward the chess table a few feet away where Newt and Teresa are staring intently at the table. He almost laughs except sometimes it feels like what Brenda said is true.

“I guess I’m gonna have to find someone else to play chess with me now,” Brenda continues when he doesn’t reply. “We both got ditched.”

“They’re not dating,” Thomas says finally.

“Oh?”

He shakes his head. “No, Teresa doesn’t like him that way. I don’t think so anyway.”

“And Newt?”

“I… I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. “He doesn’t really talk to me about that kinda stuff.”

“Teresa does?” Brenda asks.

From his point of view, he can see that Newt thinks he is going to win. Thomas knows better. “Sometimes.”

Brenda hums. “Maybe Newt talks to her.”

Thomas faces her. He doesn’t understand why Brenda is here; they’re not really friends. “What?”

“Maybe he talks to _her_ about crushes and stuff,” she explains, tucking her hair behind her ears. The short hair suits her more than it did Teresa.

She has a point. Newt isn’t as close to him as he was before. “Maybe,” he replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Who else remembers nothing from 2008 except 'Love Story', 'Hot n Cold' and 'Poker Face'? Lol. How's this for a reconciliation, huh?  
> As always, your kudos and comments keep me alive and well. Thank you all for your support <3\. If you have any questions, the comment box is below. My [tumblr askbox](https://sodainabotte.tumblr.com/ask) is also always open, anon or otherwise. Come say hi!  
> my [tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I had an excuse for taking so much time in between updates but alas, I don't have the courage to lie to you guys about having one. I'm just grateful that a bunch of you are still sticking around to read the new chapters, however sporadically I am uploading them. Enjoy this one guys :)

**2009**

They’re running so fast and the adrenaline is kicking in. He laughs for no reason, overwhelmed by the exhilaration that comes with sprinting. Newt is ahead of him, laughing back.

Teresa didn’t turn up outside his apartment this morning so he went over to her place. It turns out she had come down with the flu. It was Newt’s idea to go and see her after school. Somehow they ended up competing.

He wants to shout something to distract the boy in front of him but he’s too out of breath to think of what to say.

Newt wins the race. And he’s not humble about it at all. “I win. _I win_ ,” he says, panting, and Thomas can’t even reply. “Now you have to get me a present.”

“I don’t want to,” Thomas says between heaving air. “We’re not even friends. You’re rude.”

“Oh come on now, Tommy.” He has his hands on his hips, seemingly mostly recovered from their race. “You know I’ve always liked you.”

Thomas scoffs.

“Plus,” he adds. “I shouldn’t have to beg you to get me a birthday present.”

“Your birthday was yesterday and I missed it so now you just have to wait ‘til next year.”

“Well that’s bullshit.” It’s not the first time Thomas has heard him swear but they’re young, and to Thomas, the curse sounds strange coming from his mouth. “I didn’t see you at all during winter break and you see me the first day back at school, say ‘belated happy birthday’ and that’s it?”

“Oh sorry,” Thomas says, smiling. He can’t help himself sometimes. “Belated happy _fourteenth_ birthday.”

Newt laughs despite himself. “You’re impossible.”

“You always liked me anyway.”

“Are you guys done bickering?” Teresa is standing in the doorway, looking thoroughly entertained. He didn’t even notice when she opened the door. “You didn’t even knock.”

Newt’s eyebrows are drawn together. “I swear I knocked.”

“No, I opened the door because I could hear you outside arguing like an old married couple,” she tells them. “Like always.”

_We don’t do that_ , Thomas thinks.

“We don’t do that,” Newt says.

Teresa looks between them like they’ve gone insane. She looks like she’s going to reply for a second but she doesn’t. She just opens the door wider to let them in.

 

* * *

 

**2017**

“I can’t believe I decided to live with you,” Chuck tells Thomas when he sees the (lack of) contents in Thomas’s fridge. “There’s no food here!”

“There’s pot noodles in one of the cabinets,” Thomas tells him.

“That’s not really food is it?”

Thomas gasps loudly. “How dare you?”

“Okay, we need to go grocery shopping before I die of starvation.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Thomas exclaims. “You just said that pot noodles isn’t really food. I won’t let you get away with that.”

“I don’t care, Thomas.” The boy is grabbing his keys and rolling his eyes. He stops in the doorway and turns around. “I’m hungry so I’m going to McDonalds.”

Thomas knows an invitation when he hears one. “Let me grab my wallet. I’ll pay.”

*

It rains hard a few hours later. Thomas and Chuck use the opportunity to stay indoors and get Chuck fully moved in. They are unpacking one of the last boxes when the buzzer goes off. Thomas lets Chuck find out who it is. (He knows that the younger boy is excited about living away from home and all the ‘adult things’ he can do.)

It’s Minho, and he brought Newt.

Subconsciously, Thomas runs his hands through his hair as they wait for the pair to climb up the stairs. Chuck doesn’t comment.

Thomas opens the door when he hears someone knock, only to be greeted by a camera.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” Thomas asks, caught between confused and irritated.

“Yes,” Newt answers simply, then pushes past Thomas to envelope Chuck in a hug. When he pulls away, he snaps a shot of Chuck’s smiling face.

Thomas turns back to Minho (hair unusually flat: no product) with a questioning eyebrow raised.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Minho says pointedly. “He brings the stupid thing everywhere.”

Frowning, Newt strokes the top of his camera as if it were a pet. “He didn’t mean that.” He’s wincing slightly and Thomas can tell that Newt still hasn’t fully recovered from whatever injury he got on his left ankle.

“Hey Chuck,” greets Minho, ignoring Newt’s statement.

“Hey Minho.”

“You all set up here now?”

“Mostly,” Chuck replies. “I do need an opinion on what to do with my statuettes though.”

“I’ll help,” Newt says immediately, smiling widely. “I wanna see what kinda stuff you’ve been making.”

Newt hobbles as he walks. (Maybe the bad weather is making it worse.) When the two of them are in Chuck’s room and out of earshot, Thomas confronts Minho, who is inspecting the fridge.

“Woah, what’s with the face?”

“You brought Newt?” He tries to be calm.

“Yeah. Dude wanted to come, so he came. What’s the problem?” He gestures at the fridge. “Since when do you keep so much stuff in here?”

“Since Chuck moved in. And what do you mean, ‘what’s the problem’?” He is calm. He is very calm.

“Yes,” Minho whispers when he finds the six-pack in the back corner. “I thought everything’s fine between you two.”

_What_? “No, it’s not _fine_ ,” he says, passing the bottle opener to Minho.

“We all had lunch together. You got him to live with me,” Minho points out. “I figured you guys had sorted it out.”

“There isn’t much to ‘sort out’,” he air-quotes. “I just don’t like him.”

“Well, that’s a lie.” Minho offers an open bottle to Thomas.

“I—” he starts. “Whatever.” He grabs Minho’s open bottle and storms off to Chuck’s room, pretending he doesn’t hear his friend’s quiet laughter.

Chuck is sat on the floor in front of Newt in the bed. They are trading Chuck’s wooden figurines between them.

“Beer?” Thomas asks the room.

Both of the boys answer with a “Yes, please.”

There is a moment where Thomas considers being petty. (No, no, no. They were starting over. _New friends_.) He thinks of giving one of the beers to Chuck, taking a massive gulp from the other and ignoring Newt completely.

Newt smiles at him softly when he hands over the second bottle.

_Fuck._

*

Minho joins them a minute later with a beer in each hand. He’s about to hand one to Newt when he notices that his roommate is already holding a bottle. Thomas avoids his gaze.

“You never thought to paint any of these?” Newt is running his fingers over a small wooden bear.

Chuck makes a small noise. “I think you got me confused with yourself. I’m no painter.”

“You paint?” asks Minho. “Thomas, you never told me he paints.”

Thomas takes a sip (or three) from his bottle and says, “Wasn’t really relevant.”

“And I’m not a painter,” Newt adds. “God, I can’t even remember the last time I used a paintbrush. Must’ve been high school.”

Thomas can’t stop the words from bubbling out. “You don’t paint anymore?”

“Nah,” he replies solemnly. “Grew out of it, I think.” Turning to Chuck, he says, “These are really good though, greenbean. I was never really good with carving.”

Beside Newt, Minho is smiling widely. “Aw, look at you two artists. Talking shop.”

“Don’t patronize me, Romeo,” Chuck says.

“Hey!” Minho pouts, pointing a warning finger at the boy. “Juliet was hot and I got to kiss her. It was totally worth it.”

Newt bends forward laughing, catching Thomas’s eyes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me my roommate is drama nerd.”

Thomas smiles back easily. “He’s really touchy about it. What he’s not telling you is that he asked her out after opening night without realizing she was a lesbian.”

“Thomas!” shouts Minho as Newt falls back onto the bed giggling. “Her name was Harriet and she was gorgeous but taken. She's still a good friend of mine. I wonder... should I tell Newt about the summer after freshman year?”

“I’m almost certain I don’t want to hear this story,” Chuck grimaces.

“It was like a ‘Hangover’ movie.”

“I _need_ to hear this,” says Newt.

“We are not telling this story,” Thomas says, fighting back another smile.

“Okay,” Minho replies slyly. “All I’ll say is he still has the tramp stamp.”

“Oh my god,” Newt gasps. “Oh my god. Thomas has a tramp stamp. Just when I thought I had enough blackmail.”

“It is _not_ a tramp stamp,” Thomas explains. “I happen to like it very much.”

Minho leans back to look Newt in the eye. “His exact words when he showed it to me were ‘Minho, I have a fucking tramp stamp, get it off, get it off!’” He puts on a very high voice in a (failed) attempt to imitate Thomas.

“It’s _not_ a tramp stamp,” he repeats. “You’re exaggerating.”

Chuck mediates. “Let’s settle it. Show us the tramp stamp, Thomas.”

“It’s not—” he sighs, defeated. He watches the three pairs of eye on him as he stands and turns around. He lifts his shirt.

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “Mate. That is a fucking slag tag.”

Minho bursts into laughter.

“It’s not in the center, it doesn’t count,” he reasons.

“Thomas,” Chuck says sadly, sounding too much like a disappointed dad. “It’s a heart with the quadratic formula going around it in a circle. It’s on your lower back. It doesn’t matter that it’s a little to the left. It’s a tramp stamp.”

He hears the tell-tale click of a camera. “Physical evidence,” Newt says.

“I hate you guys,” Thomas mutters, sitting back down. “I really do.”

“Heard that one before,” Newt answers casually. “I can tell when you mean it and when you don’t. But what do I know, I don’t have a tramp stamp,” he quips, laughing hysterically.

*

“Newt says he saw your tramp stamp,” Teresa says when he answers the phone.

“It isn’t a—.” Thomas sighs. “You know what? Nevermind.”

Of course, Teresa goes straight for it. “How are you two getting along?”

He wonders if he should just hang up. “I don’t know. It’s okay, I guess.”

“Okay?”

“I just avoid talking to him alone.”

Teresa mumbles something that he can’t make out. “He lives with Minho now, Tom,” she says louder. “And that’s _your_ doing. I was helping him find a place somewhere else and you introduced him to Minho.”

“I know—”

“I’m not done,” she says sharply. “Tom, you and Minho are inseparable at this point. And Newt and Minho get along well. They’re good friends already.”

“I know that—”

“Thomas,” she warns.

“Sorry,” he mumbles back.

Teresa sighs, long and heavy. “Newt’s a part of your life now. Maybe not like before, but he’s not going away any time soon. You need to come to terms with that.”

There is a lot that Thomas could say to that. “I’m trying.”

“Are you?” she immediately answers. “Because keeping all this inside you isn’t good for you. You were doing so well.”

“Yeah, well it’s not my fault that he shows up out of the blue and storms into my life like he fucking belongs there. Everything, _everything_ , is all his fault.”

He breathes, counting the seconds. In (two, three, four), and out (two). Again.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Do you see what I mean?” Teresa says, all-knowing as she always is. And she’s right.

“Yeah.” Of course he does. He’s known the whole time but being angry at Newt is better than the alternative. “Yeah, okay. I’ll try and figure it out.”

A pause. “You should call Miss Paige.”

“No. I can do this. Besides, Newt and I agreed to be friends.”

 

* * *

 

**2009**

Thomas watches as Newt and Teresa whisper to each other. His friends are sitting in the table in front of his. They had turned their chairs to talk to Thomas but as always, they ended up in their own private conversation, Newt doodling something in the back of a notebook.

“Hey loser,” Brenda says from beside him. He didn’t notice she had sat down there.

Teresa pivots to frown at the other girl. “That’s my seat,” she states.

“You’re not using it,” Brenda points out.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna sit there later. Aris sits here.”

“Aris can sit somewhere else. I want to sit next to Thomas.”

“Wow,” Newt says, not looking up from where he’s shading in his landscape sketch. “The ladies are fighting over Thomas. Who would have thought?”

“Oh,” another voice comes. Thomas looks up to see Aris hovering beside Teresa. “I’ll go and sit with Jeff.”

“Thanks, Aris,” Brenda says.

“You’re welcome, B,” Aris calls back. _Huh._ Since when were Aris and Brenda friends?

Teresa narrows her eyes at Brenda but otherwise says nothing.

Thomas sees Brenda smiling at him. “What’s up?”

He doesn’t really know what to say. They’re not friends. But maybe it’s better that they aren’t. His friends don’t seem to care about him much these days. “Nothing much,” he replies. Then, bolder, “Are we still playing chess later?”

She hesitates for a second before she realizes what Thomas is doing. “Yeah, of course!”

Newt and Teresa are looking at them weirdly. _Let them look_ , Thomas thinks. _I can have other friends_.

He turns to smile at Brenda only to find her already beaming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and as always, your comments and feedback are highly appreciated. Please feel free to contact me on my social media (you can even do it anonymously on my tumblr ask, [link here](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com/ask)). I promise to write as often as I can. I really wanna finish this fic soon, for the sake your sanity as well as mine hahaha.  
> my [tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Before I say anything else, I'm gonna warn for mention of self-harm.
> 
> I also just wanna say that I have never done athletics in my life. Everything concerning athletics in this story is drawn from my limited knowledge, minimal research, and talks with a friend of mine who competes in athletics. I always appreciate it if anyone will point out any mistakes I make with this, or with anything in the fic, because I get really nit-picky about fact-checking even if it doesn't add anything to the plot. I don't have a beta either so I rely on constantly re-reading and hoping for the best lol.  
> And Thomas' and Newt's birthdays are the same as their scientist namesakes. It's not relevant to this chapter _at all_ or the story in general. It's just some minutiae for y'all.

**2009**

“‘Sup losers,” Gally says as a greeting, coming to a stop beside Newt and Teresa’s table.

“Are we supposed to respond to that?” Brenda whispers loudly.

Frypan appears next to Gally. “Hey guys,” he nods. “Gally, be nice.”

The boy sighs. “Hello, Newt,” he smiles. Newt waves at him. “Hello, Brenda,” he says next.

“Hello, big-head,” Brenda replies with a huge grin.

Grimacing, Gally looks over Teresa. “Teresa.”

She gives him a once-over, pulls a face of disgust and greets Frypan instead.

“Last, and also the _least,”_ Gally tells them dramatically, “Thomas.”

“What do you want, Gally?” Thomas asks. He won’t let Gally get to him anymore.

“I’m here to ask some of you to come to my Christmas party.”

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Newt says as Brenda asks, “Some of us?”

Gally rolls his eyes. “I’m not religious,” he answers Newt. “My parents are going on their yearly retreat to Australia or whatever soon, so next weekend I’m throwing a party,” he explains. “And I only want Newt and Brenda to come.”

Newt smiles triumphantly at the rest of the group. Thomas doesn’t really feel bad that he’s not invited. Gally used to pick on him in elementary school and Teresa was kind of his knight in shining armor, so it makes sense that Gally doesn’t want them at his party.

Brenda raises an eyebrow at Gally. “Why only us?”

“He’s inviting all of you,” Frypan interrupts before Gally can even open his mouth. “He’s just being a dick. The more people the better.”

“I wanted to hear Thomas whine about it first, Fry.”

Thomas laughs sharply, “You think I want to go to your stupid party?”

“Boys,” Teresa warns. Then she addresses Gally. “You don’t like us. Why are we invited?”

“Because the stupid middle-schoolers are throwing a lame party to try and get the attention of the juniors and seniors,” Gally tells them. “So I figured, we’re _freshmen_ now.” He gestures to the group.” So why can’t _we_ score some hot older girls and guys,” he adds, nudging Brenda with his elbow. “Those middle-schoolers won’t stand a chance.”

Brenda doesn’t look impressed. (To be honest, Thomas isn’t either.) “What if we don’t want to score hot older girls or guys?”

“Well, either way, it boosts up our status in the school,” the other boy replies. “Adds to our popularity, and you know what? You sure do ask a lotta questions.”

“I want to know what I’m getting myself into,” Brenda quips.

“Anyway,” Gally grits out. “Just let me know whatever you decide.”

Brenda waits for Gally and Frypan to sit at their table in the back before saying, “I’ll need to check with Jorge but I’m in.”

“Jorge?” Thomas asks. (Odd: she’s never mentioned a boyfriend before.)

“My guardian.”

“Oh.” (She _has_ mentioned a guardian, but never by name. He feels… relieved?)

“I’m in too,” Newt says. “No time like the present to go to a high school party.”

Thomas eyes Gally and Frypan. Frypan is cool. But Gally is most definitely not. “I’m not coming.”

“Why not?” asks Newt. He twists his chair around to face Thomas. “Don’t be a killjoy.”

“I am _not_. You can go. I just don’t like Gally.”

“Well, if Thomas isn’t going, then neither am I,” Teresa states.

“Awww, Thomas, look what you made Teresa do,” Newt says, giving Thomas a pleading look. “I want you both to come with me and Brenda!”

“Me too,” Brenda pouts. “Come on, Thomas, just ask your parents first at least.”

“Yeah, Tommy, pleeeeeease.”

Brenda put a hand over his. “Please, Thomas?”

He looks between the two of them, then at Teresa, who shrugs at him. Newt’s eyes are hopeful and his smile is soft. Brenda squeezes his hand gently. “Okay, Teresa will ask her foster parents and I have to ask my parents too. If they say yes, then we’ll go.”

“Yay!” Newt yells just as their homeroom teacher walks in.

“Yes, I’m excited about being here too, Newt,” their teacher says. “But no shouting in class.”

Teresa snickers into her hand.

“Thanks, Thomas,” Brenda mumbles, her breath close to his ear. She kisses him on the cheek, then lets go of his hand.

 

* * *

 

**2017**

It’s fall. It turns out there is so much coursework in doing a masters. Thomas is knee-deep in it when Chuck comes home with food.

“Dinner is served,” the boy announces.

*

Over the now-empty bags from Taco Bell, Chuck catches Thomas’s attention with a firm “Thomas.”

He doesn’t like that tone. “What?” he asks, suspicious.

“Don’t get angry,” the boy starts slowly.

“Why would I get angry?”

“It’s about Newt.”

Thomas sighs. He’s tired of being angry. “Go on.”

“He said that he thinks you don’t like him,” he says finally.

 _I don’t_ , is what Thomas wants to say. _Of course I do_ , he also wants to say. He settles on, “What made him think that?”

“Well, he said that you don’t really talk to him like before.”

“We decided to start over, Chuck. Does he know what that even means?”

“I don’t know much about what’s happened between you two recently.” Chuck rises out of his chair and begins to gather up their plates. “You weren’t speaking, then you were…”

“Obviously, I wasn’t exactly taking the whole thing well when he first showed up but I guess we sorted things out,” he explains as he starts to wash the dishes. Without hesitation, Chuck picks up a towel and dries them. They work in sync and in silence.

A few minutes have passed when Chuck says, “He did mention something about you guys starting over like you said. But he said you’re different.”

And _that_ makes him a little angry. “Well, yeah, I’m different. Am I supposed to still be fifteen and dorky?”

“I told him that!”

His heart warms and suddenly the anger seeps out of him. He smiles over at his friend, his _brother_ in all the ways that matter, who would defend him no matter what.

“I don’t know what he wants, Thomas, to be honest,” Chuck goes on. “I asked him, and he said himself that he doesn’t know.”

“Well, I can’t do anything with that.”

“I know. I was telling him that if he wants you to act like before, it’s not gonna happen. You both changed.”

“Exactly.”

“But.” Thomas purses his lips and waits for Chuck to continue. He breathes deeply, looking ready to defend himself. “I think you should talk to him about it.”

“No,” Thomas says with conviction. “No, absolutely not.”

Chuck raises his hands slightly, a sign of surrender. “It’s only a suggestion.”

“And I’m saying no,” he repeats.

“I knew you were going to say that, of course. But I think it would be good if you at least consider it.”

“I don’t think either of us is ready for that,” Thomas admits. “We’re forgetting about all that anyway. Fresh start.”

“Okay,” Chuck concedes, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “If that’s what you want.”

They put away the dishes together. Despite the confusing conversation, Thomas is grateful for Chuck in his life. Living by himself or with strangers wouldn’t compare to living with someone so dear to him. Part of him misses Minho, of course. But having Chuck close to him when Teresa and his parents are so far away keeps him from getting too homesick, even though he’s been living away from home for years now.

Having Newt back is strange, he’ll admit. He still feels as if he is walking on eggshells when he’s around the guy. And yet… it’s not as bad as he believed it would be. It helps that he tries to think of this as a brand new friendship.

He looks down, unsure of how he ended up back in his room, at his table. The words on the papers blur together and his mind is racing with thoughts he has pushed down and away for so long. _What if, what if, what if?_

Thomas falls asleep on the table that night. In his dreams, Newt is sitting on a brick wall and Thomas is cross-legged on the ground below. When he leans back on his hands to look up at Newt’s face, amber in the light of the streetlamps, the boy is fifteen and smiling. His hair is shorter, somewhat blonder, but it could be a trick of the light. He opens his mouth to say something that Thomas can’t hear. He utters the words once more; this time it’s loud and clear.

“What if, Tommy?”

*

Thomas can barely breathe, he’s laughing so hard.

“And remember,” Chuck breathes out, voice high and ecstatic. “Remember when you—” he cuts himself off, chuckling and pointing at Newt.

“What?” Newt laughs, face red but by far the most composed out of the three of them.

They’re all at Minho and Newt’s apartment. Chuck is in the loveseat, Newt and Thomas sit close together on the couch.

Chuck calms down enough to say, “I think I was timing you for a track meet. You were beating Thomas and Teresa but you turned back because Thomas was taunting you and you somehow ended up running off course and tripping over a tree root.”

Thomas doubles over, giggling. Newt’s arm (not as skinny as before, maybe he’s doing weights?) brushes against his as he shakes. “I remember that.”

“I don’t,” Newt replies, smiling at Thomas, curious.

“How can you not remember?” asks Thomas. “Teresa and I carried you to the nurse’s office. You sprained your ankle.”

“Ah, yes,” Newt says, face suddenly closed off. He gets up suddenly. “Anyone else want a beer?”

 _It’s only 2 in the afternoon_ , he almost chides but he holds his tongue. “I’m good,” he replies. Chuck shakes his head.

The air feels tense now—heavy—and Thomas has the urge to open another window. He always seems to fuck up conversations with Newt. The only good chat they had was on the phone when he told Newt that they should start over. It’s so different; it used to come so easy, and it still does… but. It never lasts long. How fitting.

“Oh my god.” Newt’s voice fills the room, but he sounds happy enough now, and the weight of the air dissipates. “Remember Brenda?”

That brings a smile to Thomas’s face.

Newt places himself back on the couch and grins at him. “Have you talked to her since high school?”

“Actually,” says Chuck before Thomas can think of how to respond. “Brenda and Teresa still meet up for coffee and chess every now and then.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Newt leans back, looks up at the ceiling. “I bloody miss that girl.”

“Me too,” Thomas agrees. He really does. She was good for him, but they weren’t meant to be together that way. Maybe in another universe.

“Yeah?” Newt asks, the expression on his face unreadable.

Thomas nods. “Maybe not as a girlfriend. But she was… something else.”

“She intimidated me,” Chuck adds, and they all laugh.

“That’s ‘cause she could kick your arse if she wanted too,” Newt comments.“It’s probably why she and Teresa are so close.”

Chuck hums in understanding. “I wish they’d kicked Gally’s.”

“Gally’s a boxer now, but I still think they could do it,” Thomas says.

“Really?”

“Yeah, he brags about it on Facebook.”

“Oh man,” Chuck breathes. “Christmas at Gally’s—remember that?”

Thomas’s blood runs cold. He risks a glance to his right, only to see Newt is frozen in place as well.

“Shit always goes down at Gally’s, especially for Thomas,” Chuck continues. “Your senior year—”

“Chuck,” he starts.

The youngest looks between the other two in the room. “I mean,” he backtracks. “Like when you guys were sophomores, 'cause that's when Thomas and Brenda started dating, you know?”

“Right,” Thomas chimes in quickly.

Newt breathes out loudly. “Right,” he says, tone all wrong. He drains down the rest of his beer and checks the time on his phone. “Well, I better get going.”

Chuck winces. “What—”

“I got some stuff to get from the shops before I start at The Homestead so I should go.” He doesn’t look at either of them as he puts on his shoes. “You guys can help yourself to the fridge and stuff. The PS4 controllers are in that cupboard.”

“Newt, are you okay?” Chuck asks, giving Thomas a look that says ‘ _do something_ ’. Thomas doesn’t dare to breathe.

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt replies distractedly before muttering “see ya later” and practically running out the door.

Thomas lets out the breath he was holding in.

“What the fuck,” Chuck whispers, eyes wide open, “was that?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He expects a panic attack to come over him but nothing happens.

“I was thinking of your senior year, Thomas,” Chuck explains apologetically. “I swear I wasn’t trying to do anything. Then I realized he probably doesn’t know about senior year and then I realized that the year before that—”

“Don’t, Chuck.”

“Thomas, I’m sorry. I—”

“Chuck.” There’s nothing he can do. He knew it could come up at some point. He just didn’t think it would be this early on, when they’re still tip-toeing around each other. “It’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you.”

The boy sighs deeply. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, I’ll… I’ll do it.” Fuck, what is he doing?

“Thomas—”

Fuck. “It should be me.” _Fuck_.

Chuck smiles, small and proud. “Okay,” is all he says.

*

He walks into The Homestead with weak knees. He may be afraid but he’s also brave. He always has been.

It’s been a few days since he last saw Newt, rushing out of the door of his own apartment. Thomas sent him a text when he and Chuck left, a quick ‘thanks for letting us stay’ or something to that effect. Newt replied hours later: ‘cool’.

Cool? _Cool?_ That's not what you say when you are acting like you have lost your mind.

Looking around, he doesn’t see the person he’s searching for. Alby isn’t there either, it’s a new guy (scrawny but enthusiastic), clearly a trainee. Seconds later, Newt comes out from the back room and talks to New Guy, handing him a set of keys.

It seems like Newt is going out for his lunch break, which is exactly when Thomas is hoping to catch him. Newt smiles when he spots Thomas by the door, the incident from before seemingly forgotten. “Thomas, hey.”

Thomas smiles back despite the uneasiness of his stomach. “Hey,” he breathes. “You wanna go for lunch?”

“Yeah,” Newt confirms. “I was just goin’ out for food anyway.”

 _Cool_ , a part of him thinks sarcastically.

They go to a salad bar nearby. (Newt’s order doesn’t have much protein like it used to. Maybe he really _has_ stopped running. Thomas can’t imagine himself giving it up. It’s the only hobby of his that stuck. Yeah, he hasn’t participated in a track meet in ages but he still runs when he can, in addition to going to the gym.)

 _We’re going to talk now_ , he reminds himself. So he asks, “You don’t do track anymore?”

Newt looks like he’s going to run out on him for a second but he seems to decide against it. “That obvious, huh?”

Thomas shrugs noncommittally. “I just guessed. You’re a little skinnier than high school. Your arms are more toned than your legs so you’re still working out, just not on a track. And you were being weird when we touched on the topic yesterday.”

“Alright, Sherlock,” Newt teases, loosening up and laughing. “But yeah, spot on. I never really kept running after high school. I mean, I tried but… it didn’t work out,” he says with an air of finality.

Thomas knows not to push. He’s steeling himself to talk to him about what Chuck said but Newt speaks first.

“You met Minho during athletics, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods, nostalgic. “Yeah, I was faster; he had more endurance. But we became friends really fast during freshman year. Moved in together during sophomore year because Minho somehow managed to sweet-talk the landlord into letting two college students stay there for cheap.”

Newt smiles fondly. “Sounds like Minho.”

“He’s more invested in running than me though. He still does marathons in the summer when he goes home to DC.”

“Ah.”

There’s a silence that follows. _Here goes nothing._ “So about the other day…”

“Hm?”

“You went out the door so fast but Chuck and I were the ones left with the whiplash.”

Newt is so stiff that Thomas thinks he’s about to snap. “Does Chuck know?” he asks.

“I never told him. I only said that we had a falling out.”

“And he never asked why?”

Thomas sighs. “He did at first. A lot. But I was going through a ton of shit so Teresa told him that you left without saying goodbye and that’s why we don’t talk about you anymore.”

“Wow, Thomas, really?” Newt isn’t angry, he doesn’t even look surprised.

“It _fit_ , okay? It was barely even a lie. You were gone, and I was mad all the time, and we weren’t speaking,” Thomas explains. He doesn’t have to defend himself. He’s the one who got _fucking left behind_. “He doesn’t know the details; he just knows that we last saw each other at Gally’s party.”

“You were mad? You knew I was leaving. I told you not long after we met.”

“It’s complicated,” he says.

“I’m sure it is,” Newt answers sarcastically. It stings more than it should.

He doesn’t want to be angry. He can handle this. He counts to ten in his head but Newt speaks before he gets to four.

“So what was Chuck talking about?” Newt seems genuinely curious. “Because he wasn’t originally talking about sophomore year with Brenda.”

Uh-oh. “Senior year,” he replies honestly.

“What happened senior year?”

“I got laid,” he tells him.

Newt starts laughing loudly. “You lost your virginity at your archenemy’s annual party?”

“Okay,” Thomas smiles. “He’s not my archenemy. We’re actually sort of friends now.”

“That’s… very alarming.”

“Well, things change,” he says carefully, tugging on the ends of his long sleeve t-shirt, nervous. “Like how you quit athletics.” He wants to know what happened. It’s strange. Newt was the one who got him into track and field, and there was even a time where Thomas believed Newt could run professionally.

“You’re not gonna let that go, are you?” Newt remarks.

“Not everything has changed,” he divulged softly.

“You’re still nosy,” mocks Newt.

“Hey, Teresa is nosy. I’m more…”

“Curious?” Newt fills in.

“Exactly.” Finishing his food, Thomas smiles over at Newt. “So?”

Newt is uncomfortable and Thomas can tell. Maybe they’re not quite there yet. “It’s my leg.”

“Your… leg?”

“My leg,” he confirms. “My ankle, more specifically. It’s broken.”

Thomas feels sick to his stomach. The limp suddenly makes sense, too much sense. Oh, he’s going to be sick, he’s going to throw up, he needs air, he needs air, he needs—

“Thomas? Tommy?” Newt is next to him, shaking his arm gently.

“Newt, I—did I?” He can’t breathe, his throat is tight. He can’t breathe at all.

“No, Tommy, god no.” The hand on his arm is a welcome comfort, even through his long sleeve. “Tommy, I broke it in England, okay?”

No, that can’t be right. Or can it? Newt is always to blame, right? That’s what he has been telling himself for the past five years.

“Look at me, Tommy,” Newt says, voice firm and unyielding but caring all the same. Thomas looks into his eyes, trying to find truth. “You need to breathe. Let’s go outside.”

Newt leaves a few bills on the table as he guides Thomas to stand. They walk outside together and the hand holding Thomas’ arm never lets go. The cool breeze that hits his face is sobering.

“Feel better?”

He doesn’t want to answer that question. “You’re limping.”

“Yeah, I thought you would have noticed sooner.”

“I did but I thought you had a weird sprain or something,” Thomas says, concerned and guilty. “How the _hell_ did that happen?”

Newt lets go of his arm and breathes in deep. “I did it to myself.”

 

* * *

 

**2009**

The music in the diner is faint but it makes Thomas more comfortable. Awkward silences are often filled in quickly by Teresa or Newt but neither of them can help him here.

Brenda sips her chocolate smoothie then runs a hand down her dress subconsciously. She looks gorgeous, but Thomas can’t find the words to express that thought out loud. He wants to ask if she could let her hair down because he likes the way it frames her face. Her short hair in a ponytail looks strange somehow, reminds him slightly of Teresa.

“You think this is weird, don’t you?” she asks a minute later.

Thomas stops fidgeting with his straw. He isn’t sure how to answer. Brenda appreciates honesty, but he doesn’t know if dating her changes that. Newt says that girls like being told nice things, whether they’re true or not. But Brenda isn’t like most girls.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Thomas answers quickly. “I’m just trying to think of what to say.”

“Thomas, us dating doesn’t mean you have to become some random dude from school who’s afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“And that’s what I like about you. You’re confident, courageous. You just have loud friends so it doesn’t always show.” She sighs, tucking some of her shorter hair behind her ears. “If you think that what happened at the party was a mistake then you can tell me.”

“I don’t think it was a mistake,” he explains. “I… I kissed you because I like you. And I think you like me.”

“So why are you being weird?”

“Does this change things between us?” he asks.

Brenda shakes her head, confused. “Well, we can date _and_ be friends. I don’t want you to change.”

“So I don’t have to keep some things to myself now?”

“Why would you—?”

“Newt said—”

“Newt has never had a girlfriend,” Brenda smiles, looking amused.

“You’re right.” It’s partly true. Newt is known for going on first dates but never second ones. He’s never _actually_ had a girlfriend. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I just wanted to say that I like it when your hair is down.”

Brenda pulls the scrunchie from her hair. She grins wide, and Thomas feels warm all over. “There. Isn’t it better when you say what you're thinking?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave a comment! Please! It fuels my soul!  
> The bit about Brenda's ponytail in that last scene was inspired by To All The Boys I've Loved Before because I have way too many feels about that movie, I can't even _begin_ to explain.  
>  The links to my social media are below. Please come over and yell at me about Newtmas.  
> my [tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Please be aware that the characters are going to talk about a suicide attempt in this chapter. It _is_ canon but I still want to warn people just in case. I've added it to the tags.  
>  ALSO: I added past drug use to the tags. In this chapter, illegal recreational drug use will only be referenced as past use. However, in the coming chapters, there _will_ be non-graphic (mostly implied) recreational drug use, but this won't be illegal i.e. marijuana in California where recreational marijuana usage is legal.
> 
> I really want to apologize for the huge gap between updates but I'll talk more about stuff in the end notes of this chapter and let you guys get on with reading. This chapter is slightly longer than its predecessors because otherwise it would be two _suuuuuuper_ short chapters so I put them together. And it's quite plot-heavy, so enjoy!!

**2010**

Teresa throws her bag in front of Thomas and promptly sits down opposite him on the grass. Newt follows next to her.

“Thomas talk some sense into Newt, please, before I tear his fucking head off,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Brenda is finishing off her lunch next to Thomas, eager to get back to her rehearsals for the next school play. She hands her half-finished Pepsi to him but he shakes his head. Shrugging, she holds it out to Newt who thanks her with a smile.

“I promise you, Tommy is gonna be on my side for this one,” he mumbles before taking a sip from the bottle.

“What’s the problem?” asks Thomas.

“Newt won’t kiss me.”

“Woah, okay,” Brenda laughs, standing up. She leans over to give him a peck on the cheek, saying, “I think that’s my cue to leave and get back to the auditorium.”

“Knock ‘em dead, Brenda,” he tells her.

“‘Course I will,” she replies, walking away, the sun making her skin glow. “This play falls apart without me.”

“Okay, Tommy,” Newt scoffs. “Now that your famous actress girlfriend is gone, will you concentrate?”

“Sorry,” Thomas says timidly. “Is there a relationship happening here that I should know about?” Something about that doesn’t seem right. Maybe it’s because he knew they thought of each other as siblings. Maybe he’s being overprotective of Teresa. Of Newt? Maybe what he’s feeling is—

“Uh no?” Teresa answers with a look that makes Thomas feel like an idiot. “But I need people to think that we are, remember?”

“Oh god. Not this again, T,” Thomas laments.

Teresa has convinced herself that the only way to solve her ‘boy problems’ is to pretend that she was dating someone. The problems being one problem in particular, the one problem being Janson trying to get her to be his girlfriend.

“She’s all over me and it’s freaking me out, Thomas,” says Newt, voice high and desperate.

“You don’t like the attention, Newt?” Teresa taunts. “Come on, the girls look at you like you’re the high school bad boy in a teen chick flick.”

“It’s the accent,” he grins. “That doesn’t mean I have to kiss you or date you or whatever.”

Thomas watches this unfold and wonders how his life turned out like this. “Um, Teresa, why does he have to kiss you anyway?” Imagining it makes him queasy.

“I can’t just go around saying that we’re dating, you numbskull,” Teresa groaned unhappily. “These people need hard proof. And it's not like I can ask _you_. People know about you and Brenda.”

“I’m not kissing you,” Newt states. “It’s weird and I don’t like you like that.”

“I _know_ that, Captain Obvious, but you wanna know what’s weirder? Janson.”

“You’re right, T,” Thomas says.

“ _What?!_ ” Newt exclaims while Teresa smirks proudly at him.

“I meant about Janson. But do you really think that dating someone, or _fake-_ dating someone is gonna make him think you’re unavailable?”

“The dude’s insane,” Newt agrees. “Borderline stalker. But you just have to avoid him.”

“Or kick him in the nuts,” he suggests with a smirk.

Teresa ponders on this. “I _should_ kick him in the nuts.”

Newt looks horrified. “You can’t do that, they’ll suspend you.”

“I’ll do it,” offers Thomas.

“I hate to be the buzzkill Hermione in this scenario but no one is kicking anyone in the nuts,” says Newt.

“Ugh, you don’t want to kiss me _and_ you don’t want me to hurt him.”

“Because you’re being bitchy about it. Maybe if you asked nicely, I would have held your hand in the hallway or something.”

“I was nice.”

“No, you demanded. Nice people are hotter than rude people.”

“So, you’d rather kiss someone like Thomas, then. Is that what you’re saying?” Teresa jokes.

“Well, Thomas is nice and he’s agrees that your obsession with Janson’s destruction is stupid, so yeah.”

“Woah, dude,” Thomas says, strangely uncomfortable.

“Hypothetically,” Newt adds matter-of-factly.

“What an unproductive conversation this is,” Teresa yawns, poking at her food. “All we’ve learned is that I can’t do anything about being stalked, and Newt gets boners from _kindness_.”

Thomas scrunches his nose. “You’re disgusting.”

“Oh, don’t pretend to be innocent, Tommy,” teased Newt. “Are you and Brenda gonna do it?”

“Do wh—Newt! No, it’s not like that.”

“Did she at least let you touch her boobs?”

Teresa punches Newt lightly on his arm. “Do you expect me to condone this sexualization of women?”

Thomas uses the distraction to get up and sling his bag over his shoulder.

“I’m only asking Tommy if he’s gonna _get some_ with Brenda.”

“I’m leaving,” he announces, walking away.

“Awww, Tommy, I’m sorry.” Newt grabs his arm as he passes by. “Sit down, alright? I’m joking.”

Thomas glances at Newt’s face, which is a big mistake. There’s the puppy eyes. _Damn it_. He sits.

“Do you want some advice?”

“On what, Newt? Having a girlfriend? You’re single.”

The situation is this: Newt is older (fifteen where Thomas is fourteen). Normally, that would mean that he’s more experienced. But Thomas got a girlfriend before him, and he likes to tease Newt about it.

The situation is also this: occasionally, Newt goes on dates with girls who ask _him_ out, but they never pan out. It doesn’t seem like he gives them a bad date, since he ends up being friends with the girls, but he has never, _ever_ , been on a second date. When Thomas and Teresa ask him about it, he always brushes it off, saying it was mutual and they weren’t ‘right for each other’.

Somehow, the girls like him even more after the date but they don’t get together. It’s strange. Maybe Newt _does_ have some advice about how to get girls to be more into you. But why doesn’t he use it to get a girlfriend?

“Exactly,” Newt says pointedly. “Which means I have a lot of time to watch rom-coms. Girls love that stuff.”

Thomas sighs. “Brenda isn’t really the girly type.”

“Yeah but she loves romance. Have you noticed how she only ever auditions for a school play if it’s a romance?”

"They only ever do romance at this school anyway. And what advice could you possibly give me from watching rom-coms every weekend?”

Newt tilts his head to one side, thinking it over. “You guys hold hands, right?”

Thomas doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “Yeah, so?”

“So, look,” he says. He reaches over to pull Thomas’s hand closer and fits his own palm against it.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Relax, Tommy.” Newt rolls his eyes. “I’m not grabbing your dick.”

“Newt!”

“Show me how you and Brenda hold hands.”

“No—”

“Calm down, for god’s sake. Just show me.”

 _Oh, what the hell._ Thomas slots Newt’s thumb between his own thumb and forefinger. “There. Happy? What is this gonna do?”

“This is tame,” Newt comments. “Here, try this.” He rearranges his fingers to rest alternatively with Thomas’s. "It makes girls go crazy."

Thomas looks down at their joint hands, trying to tell which fingers are his. Newt’s fingers are longer, only by a bit, and paler. He feels a need to separate them in his head: _my finger, his, mine, his, mine_ —

“And I know for a fact that they like you to do something with your hand every now and then,” Newt advises with confidence.

 _What do you mean?_ The question doesn’t pass his throat. His heart is beating too fast.

“Like…” Newt squeezes his hand. “Or…” He slides his thumb up and down, rubbing at Thomas’s knuckle. “It makes them think you’re paying attention to them.”

“Do you do this on your dates?” Thomas finds the courage to ask. He can’t feel anything but his hand laying on Newt’s knee, fingers spread by his. He can’t hear anything but Newt’s voice, so much lower than when they first met a couple of years back, sounding slow and smooth like honey. He blinks; _his, mine, his, mine_.

The other boy is taken aback but he answers anyway. “Sometimes.”

The word rouses him and suddenly he’s too aware of their surroundings; Teresa is nowhere to be found. The distant chatter of the other students comes rushing into his ears. Thomas lets go. His hand tingles.

When he lands his gaze on Newt, the boy is searching Thomas’s face for something. (He doesn’t know if he wants Newt to find what he’s looking for. He’s afraid of what that might be, what it might lead to.)

“Thanks,” he says, mouth dry and heart lodged somewhere it shouldn’t be. He can’t understand what he’s feeling. (He's lying to himself. This is what he feels when he looks at Brenda. Is he allowed to feel this when he looks at Newt too?)

“Anything for you.” Perhaps the phrase was meant as a joke but Newt is saying it too softly for Thomas to take it as one.

“Although I don’t know if it’s going to get me laid,” he teases, trying to shake off the warmth in his chest.

“You’re fourteen, Tommy,” Newt says in a different voice than before. “I’m not sure if I should even be trying to get you laid.”

“Or you don’t have any ‘getting laid’ advice because you’re on a track to becoming a virgin cat lady.”

“Or that,” Newt smiles. He glances around. “Where’s Teresa?”

“I don’t know,” answers Thomas honestly. “I didn’t see her leave. Maybe she thought the hand holding was weird.”

“It wasn’t weird to me.” The tone of Newt’s words is unreadable.

“It wasn’t weird to me either.” _Different_ , he thinks. (Good.)

Newt stares at the trunk of the tree beside him. “I was only teaching you stuff.”

“Right,” Thomas says. “Exactly.”

 

* * *

  

**2017**

“You did _what_ to yourself?!” Thomas yells. It doesn’t add up, and he really doesn’t have the energy for another panic attack.

“Can we…?” Newt looks around nervously, sliding his hand down Thomas’s arm to tug on his sleeve gently. “Can we go somewhere else and talk about this?”

“You better tell me what happened right now or I’ll punch you in face.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Newt says grimly, then glances guiltily back at Thomas. “Stop mother-henning. I’m fine, alright? Can we just go somewhere quieter?”

Thomas stares at him, if only to reassure himself that Newt isn’t in pain. That he’s okay. “Are you trying to get me alone?” he teases, hoping that joking around like this will help him feel better.

“Yes,” Newt fires right back, starting to pull Thomas with him as he walks down the street. “But not because I want to make out with you.” He stops and turns, letting Thomas’s arm drop. “Not that I—Um, wait, I didn’t mean—”

Thomas waves it off and changes the subject. “I just want to know you’re okay.”

“I’m as okay as I could be right now.” A phone buzzes. Newt’s. When he checks it, he swears low under his breath. “Thomas, I gotta go.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You’re not running away from a situation again.” Thomas won’t be able to sleep at night after hearing what Newt said.

“At least I’m not ignoring it,” Newt says with a brow raised. It’s a statement not a challenge but it feels like one. “I need to get back to work, Thomas. My break ended ten minutes ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_. I promise we can talk later.”

“You just told me you broke your own ankle on purpose or something. You can’t just expect me to leave you and go home.”

“Thomas, god, you’re insufferable sometimes,” Newt mumbles but he doesn’t look annoyed. “Would you feel better holding my hand while I pour people’s coffee?”

In his mind, he sees grass and ten fingers intertwined, only half of them his own. “No.” He rubs his hands together to chase away the phantom feeling making his skin sing. “I’ll walk you back.”

“I’ve been limping for years, Thomas, I’m not going to suddenly fall on my head.”

“Well, you’re not telling me what even happened. I can’t shake the thought that I—” He chokes on air. “That I—”

Newt looks at him long and hard, probably pitying the fact that he can’t even finish his damn sentences. “Okay, if it makes you feel better.” Then he smirks, almost cautiously. “But you don’t get to kiss me by the door of The Homestead because frankly, this was a bloody awful date.”

*

Newt promises to call him later.

Thomas goes home and waits, unable to work.

He knows what time Newt will close up The Homestead. (On their way to lunch earlier, Newt mentioned that Alby is away visiting family. Newt is in charge while he’s gone.)

Throwing on a jacket, he tells Chuck that he’s going out.

*

The sign on the door already reads ‘Closed’ when he arrives but he spots Newt and the new guy wiping down the counter inside.

He knocks on the door. They both turn towards it but it’s New Guy that makes his way over. The glass dampens his voice but Thomas can make out the “Sorry, we’re closed.”

Newt jogs over. (Now that they’re talking about it, it’s hard for Thomas to see how he failed to notice that Newt has been limping like that since February when they first reunited. This whole time.) “It’s okay, I got it,” he says to New Guy.

Thomas gives New Guy a quick once-over while he stands awkwardly for Newt to unlock the door. He’s kinda cute, but Thomas isn’t really looking for a relationship right now. (Or so he tells himself.)

“Jesus, Tommy, you couldn’t wait another half hour or so for me to finish up here?” Newt asks when he swings the door open, exasperated yet slightly amused.

“Sorry,” he mutters. Walking into The Homestead at sunset is strange. The atmosphere is different somehow. Like being in a parking lot after dark.

“Winston,” Newt says. That must be New Guy’s name. “You can go.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Thomas will help me here.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow, frowning. “I will?”

“You will because you came and disturbed my wonderful conversation with Winston here.” Newt holds the door open for Winston who grabs his backpack and walks out slowly. They smile at each other then Winston looks over his shoulder at Thomas before he leaves.

Newt locks the door behind him, places the keys by the cash register and goes into the backroom. “The tables and chairs have been cleaned. Could you lift the chairs unto the tables while I grab you a mop?”

“Okay.” Clearly Newt is working up to it. Why would he want to hurt himself  _like that_? Is he depressed? He doesn’t seem depressed. (But then again, Thomas doesn’t look like the Hulk.)

They work in silence, Thomas mopping the floor and Newt wiping down the counter, counting cash, doing paperwork (inventory?). Newt makes them both tea when they’re done, and they sit at a booth in the corner so they don’t have to put chairs down which would smear the wet floor.

“So, I met Alby when I woke up in a hospital in 2015 and he was the first face I saw,” Newt says all of a sudden, staring down at his half-empty cup of tea. (Half-empty. Huh. When did they both become such pessimists? Didn’t they used to be so full of hope? And happiness?)

Thomas doesn’t allow himself to say anything. He, of all people, understands how hard it is to talk about things like this, to be so vulnerable that you can’t even _think_ about crying, to strip yourself so bare that you can feel the cold in your bones. It is the worst kind of naked: not knowing if the person sitting before you is going to look you in the eyes again after the words come out of your mouth.

“I was drugged out of my mind and I think I tried hitting on him but he told me he’s straight.” Newt lets a small laugh slip, before finishing his tea. “He said ‘I’m flattered, and if I had to pick a man to marry, I’d pick you’.”

Thomas smiles. Alby really does seem like a nice guy.

“We still argue about that sometimes. Because obviously if you could pick any man to marry, you can only ever answer Zac Efron.”

“Obviously,” Thomas whispers.

“Classically handsome,” he starts listing on his fingers. “Hot as fuck, has a bit of a bad boy past, knows how to be in a long committed relationship, can work a stripper pole, can sing you love songs.” He sighs. “Anyway. I’m getting carried away.”

Newt rings his hands and Thomas doesn’t comment. He thinks he might agree with Newt’s Efron hypothesis but he didn’t come here to fawn over boys.

“Um, hospital, yes. I... I had tried to kill myself,” Newt states. "Alby was the one who found me."

He chuckles darkly and Thomas is scared. Not for himself but for Newt. How did it get so bad?

“Tried being the operative word there, of course, because I’m still here. But yes,” he breathes from his mouth once, hard. “Basically, I hopped off a building but it was only like... two storeys or something stupid. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time.”

Thomas’s mind imagines it right away without his permission. Newt jumping off of a building over and over again. He feels fucking sick.

“I fucked up my leg because my ankle broke in two places and then I didn’t give a shit about looking after it when I was discharged from the psych ward. Because I was gonna try again.” He puts a finger near his mouth and bites at the nail. “I don’t know... I guess I changed my mind after a while. Partly because Alby never left my side to go to America until I could genuinely promise him I wouldn’t do it, but mostly because I felt like a dick doing that to my dad again.”

The rest of Thomas’s tea is going to go cold. He can actually feel vomit making its way up his throat. Newt was going through all of this and Thomas was here in LA, getting drunk and high and not thinking about him for a second.

“Say something,” Newt whispers, chewing on his finger.

Thomas reaches to pull on Newt’s hand. He’s careful to only let his fingers touch his wrist. “Stop biting your nails,” he says. “It’s disgusting.”

Newt rolls his eyes fondly. Thomas just wants to hug him but that might be too much. He would cry.

“Why did you do it?” he asks because he’s been through some lows. The end of junior year was so full of shit that Thomas can barely see through it all to remember anything good happening. But he never thought about just... dying.

“I was depressed. Well, I _have_ depression,” Newt corrects himself. “I couldn’t do it anymore, I think. I _felt_ like I had nothing else to give, nothing else to live for, even though I guess that wasn’t true.”

“I can’t believe you were—I was here,” Thomas chokes out. “I was here just doing stupid college shit and you were out there feeling like that.”

“Thomas, look at me,” Newt requests. “It didn’t have anything to do with you. I don’t blame you for not somehow knowing I was about to do something stupid when you were over here doing other, though probably less, stupid things.”

“Still, it feels like—”

“You were the one who said we should start over and I agreed. If you want to talk about—”

“No, I can’t—”

“Well, then I’m only telling you this because I want you to know it isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to twist something that I went through into something that involves you.”

“You make me sound like a total narcissist.”

“No, it’s not that.” Newt moves to bite another fingernail but he sees Thomas track the movement with his eyes and he puts his hand back down. “Do you really not realize you've always had some sort of savior complex?”

“I know,” he says. “It’s sorta evolved into a guilt complex.”

“That’s all the more reason for me to say that this was all because I was purposely mistreating my depression. With cocaine.”

“Newt—”

“Stop, okay. I don’t need the lecture. Six years ago, I would have been pulling your gullible, shoot-and-ask-questions-at-the-same-time arse out of fires of your own making. I do get the irony of this situation.” Newt leans back to stare at the ceiling, as if it will give him the strength to go on with this conversation. “I was feeling like shit for a while when I started using. Using is a strong word, it didn’t last long enough for it to be ‘using’. I dabbled.”

“Dabbled,” Thomas repeats flatly, unimpressed. Does that mean he is clean?

“I’m not using anymore, if that’s what you were thinking,” Newt tells him, still reading his mind, almost six years on. “And I never used that much to form a habit but you could say I was in the wrong crowds. I can’t tell exactly when it started. The depression, I mean. We were still in New York. It got worse and worse and I was just stubborn about getting any help. But anyway, if you have to know, I only _actually_  had coke a handful of times but I was coming down from a high when the... building incident... happened. Never used again.”

“Christ, Newt. I figured you were going to tell me you were depressed at the time and you had somehow managed to hurt yourself so badly that you ended up with a limp.”

“You didn’t expect the drugs, the chronic mental illness, and the building-jumping?”

“I don’t think you can joke about this with me yet. Or ever. This isn’t... I don’t know how to process this.”

“You are. Even if you don’t think you are.”

“Are you okay now?”

Newt sits up properly and nods at him. “I’m doing better. I don’t wanna sound like a mental issues leaflet but... yeah, there are bad days but most days are good. I’ve stopped therapy since I got here ‘cause... money. But my anti-depressants prescription is still running. My dad obviously didn’t want me moving so far away to give college a second chance but I need a major fresh start. Alby offered me a place to stay.”

“So that’s how you ended up in LA,” Thomas almost shouts.

“Yes, Tommy.” Newt gives him a strange look. “That’s how I ended up in LA. Alby wanted to babysit me.”

“Okay, that... It makes sense now.”

That expression is still on Newt’s face. “I didn’t come here because I had some Thomas-spidey-sense—”

“No, I know, I know—”

“It’s not like I expected you to be all the way on the other side of the country when I decided to come back to America.”

“You have to understand how it looks from my point of view,” he explains. “You were in England, then you were at my college.”

“I was _passing by_ your college, slinthead.”

“Still, it seemed like too big a coincidence.”

“Well, now you know. Any more things you want to clear up?” Newt asks, now fully amused and smiling at Thomas like he’s his personal entertainment box.

 _Ben_ , he almost asks. When he opens his mouth, he ends up saying, “Winston.”

Newt is not expecting that. “What about Winston?”

“He works here now?”

“Uh, yeah...” he says. “Alby needed another person here while he’s away so he hired Winston. I’ve been training him. Actually,” he adds. “I’m thinking of asking Alby to keep him on longer. We could do with more hands on deck here. Apart from Alby and I, everyone else working here is semi-permanent.”

“At least you have a job. I’ve got applications out to do some TA work at the university but no bites just yet.”

“You’ll get one,” Newt replies confidently. “Thanks, though, Tommy.”

Now it’s his turn to be confused. “For what? Not working here?”

“No,” Newt laughs. “For being cool about all this. Me being a fuck-up now.”

“Hey, I don’t think you’re a fuck-up, okay? You having depression doesn’t make you a fuck-up,” he says with conviction. “Plus, it’s not like I don’t have issues,” he admits.

Newt’s answering smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I mean it,” Thomas assures him.

“Yeah...” says Newt. “Yeah, okay.” He gathers up their cups and start washing them up.

Thomas watches him clean the sink afterwards, watches him lock up, and tries to align this Newt with the one from his childhood, and the one from his imagination after Newt left, and the one that fell on his ankle two years ago. It’s like different versions of him from different universes all converged into this Newt in front of him now. This Newt makes tea and cooks and takes photos of everything. He has used hard drugs. He has attempted suicide. He was a painter, a friend, an athlete. It makes Thomas’s head spin.

He almost follows Newt inside when they get to his place. The dark of the night scares him into thinking that Newt might climb to the top of the fire escape. But he trust Minho to look out for Newt because even if Newt never told him this story, Minho knows how to take care of people. He keeps telling himself this as he walks the rest of the way home to keep his mind from going awry.

Later, when he sleeps, he dreams almost the same dream from a few nights before. However, this time, Newt is sitting on the edge of a building. He looks down at Thomas and asks him “What if?”

*

They only talk little after that night, but often. It’s weird, as it always has been, (at the very least,) since they reunited. But Thomas, surprisingly, has enough hope for them that he continues to make an effort to move forward.

Still, Thomas tells him he’s going home to New York for Christmas. He invites him to tag along, more out of politeness than an actual desire for him to come, and Newt declines albeit also politely. Apparently, Alby already asked him if he had plans for Christmas and when he said no, he made a commitment to work over the holidays to make up for the staff on holiday leave.

When he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, he can just about spot the disappointment in his own eyes.

*

This past year, Thomas never mentioned anything about Newt when he talked to his parents. At first it was because he was hoping for the whole thing to fizzle out. But as it became increasingly clear that Newt was slowly but surely turning out to be a constant in his life, he realized he was digging his grave deeper each time he called and said nothing.

He looks down at his packed luggage and sits on the edge of his bed. It’s not that he is afraid to tell them. They might be mad that he has been selling this white lie for so long but it’s nothing major. He just doesn’t know how to broach the subject when he gets home.

The problem is lies with the fact that he is utterly confused about the situation at hand anyway. Well, it’s more like he is confused about what he feels. (Confused seems to be the only emotion he can properly pinpoint here.) It’s strange. He has spent years harboring anger at Newt but he’s not sure that’s how he feels anymore. Does Thomas still love him? Logically, it is unlikely. But there are moments when they’re together where his heart is too warm.

He supposes that it is only natural. He _was_ in love with him and maybe his subconscious is trying to reach out to find that with Newt again. It’s too complicated, and the process of untangling this web isn’t something that Thomas believes to be a priority. It's not important and it can be ignored for now, he thinks.

*

This group hug situation should be tiresome by now but Thomas looks forward to it every Christmas. His mother somehow squeezes him harder than his father.

“Mom,” he gasps. “Are you trying to kill me?”

They separate from each other. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I was starting to feel old,” Mom says.

“So you needed to show you’re still tough?”

“Of course,” she replies matter-of-factly.

He had missed them _so much_. The quiet strength of his dad, the bright charisma of his mom. Upon introspection, he realizes that no, it is not his parents that he is scared of. It’s him. He’s afraid to face himself.

*

Dinner smells magnificent and tastes even better. As with everything else, his parents split the cooking. Thomas eats more that he has in a week. Then, stomach full and heart fuller, he tells them all of it. They don’t talk until Thomas is finished and he is grateful for that. It gives him space to think about what he is saying instead of having to focus on answering questions.

“So when we were with you on your graduation day, you had already seen him,” Dad states. Thomas can’t read him, has never really been able to. Dad is like a real-life Raymond Holt.

“Yes.”

“And he lives with Minho?” His mother is easier to figure out. She has always worn her heart on her sleeve, warm and open. Thomas is surprised at how she can manage to sport excitement and disappointment simultaneously.

“Yes,” he repeats.

Dad’s gaze is still set on him. “You didn’t tell us because you didn’t want us to pry.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought it was just a one-off so I didn’t tell you on graduation day. And I wasn’t really thinking about it when I was throwing my cap in the air.”

“You had a lot of time to tell us since then, Thomas,” Mom rebuts with a frown. “You know we love Newt. But we know you had a hard time when he was in England.”

“I just knew you were gonna ask a lot of questions that I didn’t know the answers to,” Thomas admits.

“And you know them now?” asks Mom.

“I know a lot more. So ask me what you want.”

His parents exchange looks, having a conversation that no one but them can understand. His father nods minutely. Finally, Mom turns to lock eyes with Thomas. “First, the most important part: you. Do you need to see Miss Paige?”

“I don’t need a therapist, Mom.” (Miss Paige isn’t exactly a therapist, but she became the guidance counselor at his high school after seventh grade. When Newt went back to England, Thomas’s family doctor had recommended that he schedule weekly appointments with her.)

“We can’t force you into anything, son,” Dad starts. “But a few years ago, your interpretation of certain events led to a huge disruption in every area of your life.”

 “My _interpretation_?”

“Ava made sure that all of us knew memory is a fickle thing.”

“I’m not delusional,” Thomas says, slightly exasperated now. “And I told you: Newt and I are starting over. Newt isn’t going to dwell on it.”

“But are _you_ dwelling on it, Thomas?” his mother questions softly. She is clearly just concerned, and Thomas can understand that.

Is he crazy? Is it bad that he doesn’t want to deal with all of this right now? (Or ever?) So far, it seems to going alright between him and Newt. Bringing up the past will ruin it. Right? So no, he cannot _dwell_. “I’m trying not to.”

“Please take care of yourself,” his father says. “You’re so far away from us and we worry.”

Thomas nods, words sticking in his mouth. “Newt and I are friends. It’s not like before, and maybe it never will be, but we’re okay.” He’s not sure if he’s convincing them or himself.

*

He ends up seeing Miss Paige again, mostly to put his parents at ease. Thomas visits her at her house the day before he goes back to LA and just… talks. It’s surprising how easy it is to fall back into being open with her, especially since he was so reluctant to even acknowledge Newt slotting back into his life.

When he leaves her house, he feels slightly lighter, and less like a nut case. However, she does tell him that he needs to confront the anger.

“You need to talk to Newt about what happened so you can truly put it behind you,” she had said.

Which… no. He can’t do that. What if he has a breakdown? (What if he hurts Newt?)

What is more surprising is how easy it is to lie to her and say he will do it. He doesn’t even plan to try.

*

Thomas is back in LA in time for Minho’s New Year’s Eve party, which turns out to be the lamest one yet. Though Minho normally throws a huge one, this year is a little bit toned down. He says it’s because he’s being more mature but Thomas thinks it has more to do with the fact that he’s too tired from work to invite the entire college like he used to.

Still, there is a _lot_ of people in Minho and Newt’s apartment, (way too many, in Thomas’s opinion,) and he squeezes past two people he barely remembers from college making out to get to the kitchen island. It has been re-purposed as ‘The Booze Table’ and this whole ordeal is giving Thomas flashbacks of every college party ever. He feels like he’s developing a hangover headache just thinking about it. It doesn’t stop him from filling up an empty cup with beer though.

Newt is moving around on the other side of the island—Booze Table—with oven mitts on.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking these brownies out of the oven,” Newt answers. “And before you ask, no, they’re not weed brownies.”

Thomas frowns, only slightly disappointed at the lack of marijuana. Newt’s cooking is always good. “You made them?”

“I get hungry when I’m drunk,” he explains. “Dunno why I thought it was a good idea to cook shit though. I nearly burnt myself on the oven.”

Thomas hums, walking over to grab a knife from one of the drawers. “And brownies of all things. We have to cut this with a knife, you idiot.”

“Knives and fire,” Newt contemplates. “I think I’m actually piss-drunk.”

“Don’t worry, everyone here seems to already be drunk too. I'm too sober to deal with people right now.”

“Where’ve _you_ been all night?” Newt asks drowsily, hip resting on the counter-top and watching Thomas cut everything up.

“I only just got here. Kinda sucks to be the sober one at a party.” He gulps down his beer and gets a refill. “Better catch up with you guys.”

He smells something wonderful emanating from a plate to his right. It’s covered in a paper towel and he lifts it to find two fried chicken legs underneath.

“Newt, you made chicken as well?” Thomas laughs. The boy is truly ridiculous.

“I was waiting for the brownies to be done and I was hungry. That’s only the leftovers.” Newt makes grabby hands at the tray. “Are you done cutting those because I want something chocolate-y like… yesterday.”

“It hasn’t cooled down and you still have oven mitts on,” Thomas says, shaking his head and thoroughly amused. He didn’t know if he should come tonight, especially considering the conversations he’s had recently with his parents and Miss Paige and well, himself. But this isn’t so bad.

Then, the oven mitts are discarded onto the cooker, which Thomas has to check isn’t still hot from the chicken-cooking, lest the mitts catch fire. He uses the knife to lift a brownie out of the tray and then hands it over to Newt absentmindedly.

And for some reason, in Newt’s drunken mind, it was totally appropriate for him to just lean down and bite half of it out of Thomas’s two fingers. When Thomas whips his head around to look at him, he’s grinning almost deviously.

 _He’s drunk_ , Thomas reminds himself as he tries to contain the blush rising to his face. _He’s flirty when he’s drunk_.

Thomas takes Newt’s hand and drops the other half of the brownie into it. “What’s the point of taking the mitts off if you’re not gonna use your hands?”

Newt shrugs. “Thought my mouth would be much more appreciated,” he says, chewing on the remaining half.

Thomas ignores that. He doesn’t want to flirt back in case Newt gets the wrong idea. Instead he reaches over to grab one of the fried chicken drumsticks and busies his own mouth with eating.

“Is Chuck here?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know where he’s run off to. Minho grabbed him as soon as we walked through the door to introduce him to some girls.”

“Does Minho usually try and get everyone around him laid? Because he’s been downloading Grindr on my phone when I’m not looking.”

Thomas laughs loud at that. Minho had actually told him about it two weeks ago, before he went home. He later admitted to Thomas that he only told him to try and spark some jealously from him. Thomas had given himself a mental pat on the back for not taking the bait and actually giving Minho any reason to think that he still loves Newt. The last thing he needs is Minho thinking he knows how Thomas feels, when Thomas himself doesn’t even know.

“Every time I uninstall it, it somehow reappears a few days later. God knows how he even figured out my password.”

“It’s probably something basic like 1234.”

Newt pouts. “It’s _not_ ,” he slurs.

“Sure,” Thomas chuckles. “But yeah, Minho probably thinks it’s his mission in life. He does it all the time. Perks of not living with him anymore is not having to check if Tinder had magically re-downloaded itself on my phone.”

“Hmmm. Why aren’t you out socializing with all you college buddies?” Newt asks around another mouthful of brownies.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to be in the middle of all that.” Thomas gestures to the huge crowd of people dancing (grinding) in the center of the room. “I think it’s about time I don’t spend the whole of New Year’s at some random person’s house.”

“Boo!” Newt chants.

“Plus,” Thomas continues. “This chicken is really good.”

Newt smiles at him. “You should try the brownies when you’re done devouring that.”

“I’ll get to it. I still have another leg to go,” he replies, picking up the other drumstick from the plate.

 

* * *

 

 

**2010**

They are gathered at Newt’s place for a sleepover: Newt’s idea. Teresa is suspicious about it. They’ve never really slept over at each other’s places (except for him and Teresa, but they’d stopped a long time ago) and she thinks that Newt is going to leave for England early.

“Why would he invite us all to his home and vaguely say that he’s got something to tell us?” Teresa had asked Thomas who shrugged back at her. Newt had promised four years which means he’ll leave just before 2012. He _promised_ and Thomas believed him.

The five of them are laid out in their sleeping bags on the living room floor. The arrangements that their parents all agreed on are this: Newt, Thomas, Chuck, Teresa, Brenda. (Originally, Thomas was furthest from Brenda, as requested by Jorge, but Newt prefers to be at the end so he can have more space.)

Newt’s dad leaves the light on has he goes to his room, saying good night to each of them.

Suddenly, Newt sits up straight beside him and clears his throat.

“I guess it’s time to tell you guys,” Newt announces. “My dad and I talked about it when I turned 15 and now, it’s time I tell all of you.”

“Oh my god,” Teresa says, sitting up as well. The rest of them follow suit. “I was hoping I wasn’t right.”

“I can’t believe this,” Thomas mutters to himself.

“No,” Chuck whines loudly. “Is it true, then?”

Newt looks between them all, clearly confused and also slightly hurt. “Wait. You all knew?”

“Teresa guessed it but none of us wanted to believe it,” says Brenda, shaking her head.

“And… you’re upset,” Newt states, almost like a question, though the expression on his face is pained.

“Of course we are, you dick.” Thomas would be shouting if it wasn’t for Newt’s dad being nearby.

“Oh…” Newt seems like he’s on the verge of tears. “Should I—do you guys want to go home then? I can get my dad—”

“Why would we want to go home?” Chuck asks.

“Well, you probably don’t want to be around me. But, well, to be honest I… I thought you guys would be okay with me being gay.”

The silence that follows feels so long, and Thomas feels so confused.

Brenda speaks first. “Hold up. What?!”

“You’re…” Thomas exhales, unable to continue his train of thought.

“Gay.” Teresa finishes for him and he doesn't have the capacity to thank her.

“Yes?” Newt answers slowly, his arms wrapped around his bent knees. He sniffles, still somewhat distraught but he looks just as baffled as Thomas feels.

“We thought you’re leaving us for England,” Chuck almost shrieks.

“No?”

“You’re not leaving us?”

“No! I was trying to tell you all that I’m gay,” Newt replies as he catches on to what is happening.

Thomas’s insides feel funny. Is he homophobic? No, he doesn’t think so. Then why does it feel like the entire ceiling is pressing on his chest?

“Oh my god, Newt, you scared the shit out of us,” Teresa whispers, getting out of her sleeping bag to hug him.

“So… you’re okay with this?” Newt asks, voice muffled by Teresa’s shoulder.

“Of course we are. Right guys?”

Chuck and Brenda agree, shuffling to join in on hugging Newt. Thomas, not for lack of trying, cannot unfreeze himself from where he’s sitting.

“Tommy?” Newt says cautiously.

“Yeah?” he answers automatically. He blinks.

 _Figure your shit out later, Thomas_ , he tells himself.

He reaches out tentatively to envelope everyone in his arms. He repeats Teresa’s words to Newt, “of course we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading!! I'm sorry this took so long! I have started uni now and my whole life is kind of a mess. I realized I'm not as organized as I thought I was, and studying has just drained all my motivation to do hobbies like writing this fic, hence the massive writing block. I'm back to working on this again, but I don't want to make any promises about scheduling updates in case I end up disappointing you guys, especially since I have some exams coming up in the next few months. All I _can_ promise is that I will definitely finish writing and uploading this fic, I just can't say when.
> 
> The hardest part of writing this chapter was choosing how Newt was gonna say he's drunk because here in England, pissed is the most common term but that could be confusing for Americans and I didn't want anyone misinterpreting what he said. 'Piss-drunk' sounds awful but what can we do, amiright? These are the struggles I encounter, guys, can you tell I'm a dork??
> 
> Also, I actually do think that under the right (wrong?) circumstances, modern setting Newt would handle his depression with more harmful means like illicit drugs.
> 
> (I also implied in this chapter that Thomas is a slut during New Year's and you know what? He totally is.)
> 
> The scene with the fried chicken at the party is inspired by a story one of my friends told me years ago. She attended her friend's birthday party where everyone else was getting drunk and/or high (she was sober) and she decided to just... cook some chicken in her friend's kitchen while everyone was passing around laughing gas. My reaction can basically be translated into: weird flex, but okay.
> 
> Leave a comment, I love to hear from you guys! If you guys wanna talk about the fic, or just fangirl over Newtmas, you can always reach me in the comment section or see my social media links below (you can even do ask me things anonymously on my tumblr ask, [link here](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com/ask)).  
> my [tumblr](https://sodainabottle.tumblr.com) | my [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodainabottle)


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